Underworld
by Dark Rune
Summary: For the Seigaku regulars, life revolves around tennis, but in Fuji Syusuke's case, playing the game is his only escape. Everything changes, however, when Yuumura Kirika appears, bringing a challenge beyond any game Fuji will ever play. (Crossover)
1. Glass Door

Disclaimer: The characters and events of Prince of Tennis and Noir belong to their respective owners, and no profit was made from the writing of this story.   
  
Categories: Crossover, Alternate Universe, Action, Drama, Fujific   
  
Rating: PG-13 (possibly higher later)   
  
Spoilers: Prince of Tennis (Fuji's tennis moves, nothing major), Noir (Mireille's family, Kirika's past, Soldats)   
  
Author's Notes:   
Okay, I've done the unthinkable: a crossover between tennis and assassination. I can already see people's incredulous looks (i.e. "Are you INSANE!?"), but please hear me out. This idea came to me after I watched a few Fuji-centric episodes of PoT, and it *refused* to let go after Kirika entered the scene. The result is a hopefully believable saga that explores the darker side of Fuji Syusuke, and the lighter one of Yuumura Kirika.   
  
Timeline:   
Seigaku is a junior high school, right? But does anyone actually believe that Tezuka is a 14-year-old? No? I thought so. ^_^ Therefore, in this story, everything in PoT is high school level. Furthermore, whether or not Seigaku actually wins in canon, assume that Seigaku won Nationals the year before, during Echizen's freshman year, which makes this senior year for Fuji and his classmates.   
  
Now... On with the show!   
  
  
  
-= Prologue =-   
  
  
"New mission," Mireille Bouquet announced, tossing a folder across the pool table at her partner in crime prevention. Although Mireille's roommate had just gotten out of the shower and was sitting down for breakfast, the younger woman caught the folder with ease. "It seems to be related to you personally, Kirika," Mireille added as she gracefully buttered a croissant.   
  
Yuumura Kirika raised her eyebrows briefly but said nothing as she started on her toast and leafed through the contents of the folder. Then, she frowned. "Mireille," her brows furrowed even further, "this mission requires us to stay in Tokyo for at least a few weeks. I don't believe it's wise to leave Paris before Soldats is completely-"   
  
Kirika abruptly stopped talking, her hand frozen on a page.   
  
Mireille tried not to look as if she had expected Kirika's wide-eyed reaction, but the corners of her mouth quirked upwards perceptibly. "Oh, I think this kind of request from your old family is too important to ignore, don't you think?"   
  
The younger ex-assassin looked up from her perusal of the papers, a detached expression on her face. "They weren't close enough to be family... No one ever was. They were just doing their duty as part of Soldats, so they must have ulterior motives for summoning me to Japan."   
  
"I suppose they might... But I heard that particular family broke off from the Soldats underworld, just as mine did," Mireille stated, calmly taking a sip of her tea. "Why else do you think they're asking for you now? They must know you're no longer in the killing business."   
  
"To protect..." Kirika murmured, glancing over the file. "I guess that makes sense. But still..."   
  
"Well, if you want to look at it from a tactical standpoint, we've been driving Soldats back across Europe, but we haven't begun in Asia," the Corsican woman said evenly, tucking her stray blonde locks casually behind her ear. "Barring a full-scale assassin war, this could very well be the best opportunity we've had to severely weaken them in the East. The European leaders are too busy saving their own skins to cover their Asian strongholds, so now is a good time to strike. Your family will provide excellent cover."   
  
"But they're only asking for me, not both of us," Kirika pointed out, "and you know we shouldn't split up. Not after we've come so far together."   
  
"Kirika, True Noir is about faith and trust," Mireille reminded gently. "And I have absolute faith that you can do this. After all, isn't this what we do? Protect the innocent?"   
  
"But *he's* not innocent," Kirika automatically whispered in protest, then hurriedly looked away. Mireille didn't miss the flash of self-loathing in Kirika's eyes. "Then again... who am I to judge?"   
  
"Kirika..."   
  
For a few seconds, the Japanese girl didn't respond. Mireille shifted uncomfortably in her seat, watching her best friend and wondering what she could say to convince the younger girl. After finishing her tea, however, Kirika sighed and asked, "Where will you be while I'm in Japan?"   
  
Mireille suppressed a triumphant smile. "The United States. When the Japanese Soldats crumbles, we can finally get through the American Soldats' defenses, so I'm going ahead to scout for our next mission."   
  
"I see," Kirika murmured, closing the folder.   
  
"What do you think?"   
  
Kirika shrugged noncommittally, and Mireille inwardly cringed, sensing her partner's displeasure at having to return to Japan and having their partnership divided.   
  
As the two young women ate in silence, Mireille continued to observe Kirika, wishing that she would say something more. The dark-haired Japanese girl was never talkative, but even for her, the silence was a bit much. After they put away the dishes, Kirika sat in the couch and stared blankly ahead, leaving a cold feeling in Mireille's stomach.   
  
Realizing that she would have to express her honest feelings if she wanted Kirika to wholeheartedly accept the mission, Mireille leaned against the pool table with a sigh and spoke again. "So... do you want to know what I really think?"   
  
Kirika turned, startled. For someone as alert as Kirika, this was truly worrisome behavior. "What do you really think?" Kirika inquired softly, her disappointment in herself clear. Mireille recognized her friend's self-depreciating behavior because ever since they had discovered what had happened in Corsica over a decade ago, Kirika developed a strange tendency to feel guilty, regardless of who was at fault.   
  
"I think time apart is good for us," Mireille declared at last, leveling her gaze at Kirika.   
  
The younger girl's confusion was evident in her unassuming features. "What do you mean?"   
  
Mireille smiled fondly at her partner, a quiet young woman whom she had come to think of as the younger sister she never had. Perhaps this mission would be painful for Kirika because it was personal, but Mireille had to accept that she couldn't shield Kirika forever. "The past year has been wonderful, hasn't it?" Mireille began wistfully. "A perfect partnership, protecting life instead of bringing death. It's the most fulfilling work of True Noir."   
  
"I..." Kirika hesitated for an instant. "Yes..."   
  
Mireille, whose cool demeanor contrasted with Kirika's subtle anxiety, slowly finished her tea before she continued to speak. "But now that we've found who we are when we're together, I think it's even more important for us to find out who we are when we're apart... don't you agree?"   
  
"I... I never thought about that..." Kirika murmured truthfully, sinking lower into the cushions. She had never had a real identity, after all, because her life had been designed for murder. That was why she had so quickly eased into her life as True Noir with Mireille; assassination was familiar, and it was the only thing that had ever defined Yuumura Kirika.   
  
"When this war with Soldats is over, what will you do, Kirika?" the Frenchwoman now asked, a challenge barely audible in her tone. "Who will you be?"   
  
"I don't know what..." Kirika paused as the enormity of the question registered in her mind.   
  
Mireille was asking about life after Soldats.   
  
No more deaths. No more pain. No more conspiracies.   
  
Just living as a human being, never worrying that someone might try to kill her or harm someone she loved.   
  
Kirika knew that life away from murder was actually within their grasp. She and Mireille had been fighting steadily towards a Soldats-free world for the past year, ever since they had limped out of the final confrontation at the Manor. Perhaps within two years, they might even be free from any obligation to remain in the realm of organized crime.   
  
But... Could she do it? What should she do afterwards? What did Yuumura Kirika want to do?   
  
She didn't know, and, she belatedly realized, in this respect, her partner had already left her behind. Mireille, who was rich and had the whole world at her disposal, who had grown up with an identity that Kirika lacked, had already left her behind. On the other hand, Kirika still had no idea who she could be, who she should be. Panic gradually assailed her senses as the idea of being forever alone taunted her, but then her best friend's warm voice broke through her thoughts, soothing her as always.   
  
"That is *exactly* what I want you to find for yourself."   
  
Kirika cautiously lifted her eyes to her partner's, discomfort and doubt playing havoc in her heart. When she saw the understanding on Mireille's face, however, her doubt was erased, and Kirika said the first thing that came to mind to express the overwhelming gratitude in her heart.   
  
"A-Arigatou, Mireille."   
  
Mireille's smile broadened. "You're welcome."   
  
  
  
-= End of Prologue =-   
  
  
  
  


=================  
Underworld  
=================  
A Prince of Tennis/Noir Crossover  
By Dark Rune  


  
  
  
  
-= Level One: Glass Door =-   
  
  
  
He had never been one to believe that there was such a thing as a defining moment in a person's life. Life was a continuous experience, filled with important events that shaped a person's character, and he couldn't believe one second in time could so drastically alter the course of his existence. It was no surprise, then, that he was caught off guard when that moment finally came and changed his life forever. After that moment, the first month of school, the hours of homework and half-hearted studying, the grueling tennis tryouts, and even Tezuka's farewell party, all faded into a timeless blur for 17-year-old Fuji Syusuke.   
  
Normally, at such an early time on a Monday morning, he would be staring out the window, not paying attention to the sensei because the sensei couldn't possibly teach him anything he didn't already know. Normally, the unfailingly smiling senior would be thinking about what he'd have for lunch, or what subjects he wished to capture on film, or how he could improve his tennis if he altered his stroke by just the right angle. Therefore, when the sensei opened the door to introduce a new student, Fuji turned his head in mild interest, as he would have done on any other Monday morning. But then this was no ordinary Monday morning.   
  
Her presence shook him. The significance of her arrival sent a chill through his heart.   
  
Suddenly, food, photography, and tennis ceased to matter as Fuji's smile faltered and his eyes opened. His classmates were all far too excited about the new student to notice Fuji's highly uncharacteristic behavior, and for that, Fuji was somewhat grateful. But why did no one tell him that she was here? Surely his family must have known.   
  
"Good morning. My name is Yuumura Kirika. It's nice to meet you all."   
  
She bowed.   
  
Fuji heard a collective sigh emanating from the newly infatuated young men in the class, but he couldn't really blame them for being hormone-driven boys. If he hadn't known her for what she truly was, Fuji might have reacted the same way, because, simply put, Yuumura Kirika was beautiful.   
  
She most certainly wasn't beautiful in the sexy, foxy adult sense, yet the aura of peace and loveliness surrounding her was intoxicating. Her quiet, angelic features and soulful brown eyes framed by short, auburn locks arrested the attention of every young man in the room, all of whom were salivating pitifully at this point. She certainly looked like the cute, dependable girl a guy could bring home to his parents, but Fuji knew what lay behind Kirika's innocent charm.   
  
He was repulsed.   
  
As her demure beauty wrought devastation on the male species, Kirika attracted the worried stares the female students. After all, Kirika's gaze was now directed straight at the one person who *never* paid attention in class: Fuji Syusuke. Fuji, for his part, met her seemingly emotionless stare with his friendly one, which further aroused suspicion within the female population.   
  
"Would you please say a few things about yourself, Yuumura?" the sensei urged, not noticing the drastic change in his students' attitudes. Suddenly, the boys were sitting up straighter, and the girls were searing the front of the class with hawk-eyed glares.   
  
Kirika turned to the teacher and tilted her head in a slight nod. "I moved here just today from Kyoto, which is why I was late. Please excuse my tardiness."   
  
"Don't worry about it," the sensei said kindly.   
  
"Thank you. I'm looking forward to this class, as I have heard many wonderful things about Seigaku."   
  
At this point, an excited-looking young man in the front quickly raised his hand, and the teacher motioned for him to speak. "Question, Ichigawa?"   
  
"Hai!" Ichigawa practically shouted. "Yuumura-san, do you plan on joining any clubs this year? What are your interests?"   
  
Fuji's smile faltered. He knew this girl- no, she wasn't that innocent- this woman. He knew her interests because they had once, a long time ago, coincided with his. The school couldn't possibly offer anything that could interest someone like her.   
  
"I like art very much," she revealed, with a small smile at the awestruck group of young men in the front. Fuji did a double take, because it seemed, at least to his discerning gaze, that Kirika's shy smile was genuine. "I love to paint, and I've also recently developed an interest in tennis."   
  
As soon as the words left her lips, Fuji felt his entire body tense, and everyone in the class inevitably turned to look at him. Kirika probably already knew that Seigaku was famous for having the best tennis team in the nation. He met Kirika's outwardly innocent stare without flinching, but inside he was in turmoil.   
  
What exactly was she up to? She had brought attention to him on purpose.   
  
"Well then, I must say you are in luck, Yuumura," the sensei beamed, oblivious to the strange tension between Fuji and Kirika that the class had only now begun to notice. "Fuji is the school's famous tennis prodigy. I'm sure he can help you out."   
  
Kirika's smile softened, surprising Fuji again with her apparent sincerity. "Hello, Fuji-kun."   
  
Though his mind was now reeling, Fuji retained perfect control over his voice and over his cheerful features. "Long time no see, Yuumura-chan."   
  
A combined gasp from the class pierced the air, now thick with disbelief. Jaws dropped in perfect unison. For a full minute, shocked silence dominated the room as Fuji and Kirika eyed each other with pleasant expressions that betrayed none of their feelings. The mysterious relation between Fuji and Yuumura suddenly outshone every thought in all the students' minds, and no one dared to speak lest they ruin the moment. In the end, it was the petrified Ichigawa, who collapsed loudly out of his seat, that broke the spell.   
  
Remembering that he had a class to teach, the sensei reddened slightly and cleared his throat. "Well, erm, it seems you already know each other, then. That's... good... Ichigawa, return to your seat. Yuumura, thank you for your introduction. You may sit behind Fuji."   
  
Shifting her book bag over her shoulder, Kirika walked towards the back of the room, and just as she reached Fuji's desk, everyone held their breaths in anticipation of what the pretty new girl and the intriguingly smiling (and wildly popular) guy might say. To everyone's vast disappointment, they only nodded politely at each other. Kirika didn't even pause to chat. She just kept walking and sat in her newly assigned seat, next to a girl who looked as if she would like to kill her. Of course, that girl (like all other girls) had a crush on Fuji, so it was no surprise that she (like all other girls) would treat Kirika with unmasked hostility and suspicion.   
  
When the sensei began the lesson at last, no one was paying attention except for Fuji (strangely enough) and the new student. Everyone else was too busy staring at them to care.   
  


* * *

  
"Wait a minute. You actually KNOW the new girl!?" Kikumaru Eiji blurted, gaping at Fuji as if the tennis genius had sprouted wings. Unfortunately, as this was lunch time, Kikumaru's outburst startled his doubles partner, Oishi Syuichiroh, and caused the mostly dignified tennis captain to choke on his sushi in an undignified manner. Kikumaru didn't even notice his best friend coughing violently next to him.   
  
Still smiling, Fuji directed his answer to the table crowded by senior Seigaku regulars. "Hai. I would have introduced her to you all, but she got called to the principal's office just before lunch, so I suppose I'll save the introductions for later."   
  
"What's so special about the new girl, anyway?" Oishi asked, regaining his composure and shooting a dirty look at his more animated tennis partner.   
  
"Have you even SEEN her?" Kikumaru asked dramatically. "She's soooooooo cute! So angelic! I'd give anything to have a girlfriend like that!"   
  
"Pretty girls throw themselves at your feet all the time, Kikumaru," Kawamura Takashi, sitting on the opposite side of Oishi, pointed out with a slight blush. "What's wrong with all of them?"   
  
Kikumaru grinned. "I already know all those girls, and none of them are right for me, but this new girl could be my soulmate!"   
  
Fuji's eyes narrowed in disapproval, and although Fuji kept his smile, Inui Sadaharu, sharp-eyed observer that he was, caught the tennis prodigy's unusual behavior. When Inui began muttering to himself, Fuji sighed in dismay. He didn't feel like explaining how he knew Kirika since he didn't know if she was supposed to be undercover for Soldats or for someone else. He needed to talk to her soon, to discover her real intentions in Seigaku. Professional assassins didn't need high school or tennis, after all, so obviously, her mission must have something to do with him.   
  
"Fuji-kun, may I speak with you for a moment?"   
  
The quiet female voice washed over the table like ice water.   
  
Speak of the devil, Fuji thought darkly.   
  
Every conversation and heated argument at the table halted, and all the regulars except Fuji stared, red-faced and wide-eyed, at the shy-looking young woman who had recently been the object of their loud debates. She was positioned just behind Fuji, but if she hadn't spoken up, they wouldn't have even noticed her there. Fuji stood, his smile strained for normalcy as he turned to her. "Yuumura-chan, of course. But first I'd like to introduce you to some of my friends and teammates."   
  
Kirika nodded politely. "Hello, everyone. My name is Yuumura Kirika."   
  
"Inui Sadaharu. Nice to meet you." Inui stood to greet her, his glasses glinting.   
  
Kawamura blushed heavily as he, too, raised himself to his full height to introduce himself. "K-Kawamura Takashi."   
  
"Oishi..." the captain swallowed hard, standing ramrod straight, "Syu-Syuichiroh."   
  
"K-K-Kimo... uh, K-Kikomer... itai!" Kikumaru flinched as Oishi kicked him under the table.   
  
Fuji grinned. "The one who forgot his name is Kikumaru Eiji."   
  
"FUJI!" Kikumaru yelled indignantly, turning a deeper shade of red as he sat down.   
  
"It's a pleasure to meet you," Kirika told the tennis players honestly.   
  
Fuji packed his belongings and threw the remnants of his lunch into a nearby trash can. "Well then, I'll see you guys at practice," he announced cheerfully. Judging from the shock on his friends' faces (FUJI! Leaving! With a GIRL!), he knew he would have much explaining to do after school. Fuji was just glad no one else on the tennis team was in room 4-A; otherwise, he would be interrogated mercilessly during his afternoon classes.   
  
"Let's go then, Fuji-kun," Kirika smiled, casually taking his hand in hers as if it were the most natural thing in the world to do.   
  
Nearly tripping over his own feet in stupefaction, Fuji felt his mouth drop open, his eyes expanding to almost comical proportions. Helplessly, he glanced over his shoulder at his teammates, who had now advanced to varying stages of terror-induced cardiac arrest. Fuji winced as he calculated that the amount of explanations he would need had just quadrupled, and that was when he noticed something else amiss.   
  
The customarily high noise level in the cafeteria had dropped off entirely. It was eerily quiet.   
  
Looking back, Fuji saw that it wasn't just the tennis regulars who were staring stupidly at his and Kirika's linked hands; ALL the students in the entire cafeteria had ceased chattering and were now staring, thunderstruck. For the first time in his life, Fuji felt his cheeks grow impossibly warm. So this must be what it felt like to be embarrassed and infuriated at the same time...   
  
As Kirika pulled him out of the cafeteria, Fuji, still smiling, whispered irritably, "Whatever it is you've got planned, Kirika-chan, I won't be a part of it."   
  
She stopped only several meters out in the hallway and turned to face him, never letting go of his hand and pointedly ignoring passing students who saw Fuji with the fabled new girl. Of course, the passers-by promptly passed out in disbelief and denial that the wonderful Fuji-sama might finally be off-limits.   
  
"Syusuke-kun," Kirika began, looking up at him, "how well do you know me?"   
  
He glanced away. "Just as well as you know me."   
  
For some reason, Kirika appeared hurt by the comment. "Then you don't know anything at all. Let's find somewhere private. I'll explain everything there."   
  
Although he maintained his usual close-eyed, cheerful expression, his smile seemed to exude cruelty to her all of a sudden. "No."   
  
She hesitated. "No?"   
  
"I feel very much like killing you now," Fuji murmured softly, dangerously, pulling her close with his frightening strength so that their faces were only inches apart, their hands clasped in the small space between their bodies. He was still smiling amiably. "Don't think I've forgotten what happened five years ago, Kirika-chan."   
  
Her grip on his hand tightened. "You... you don't really know me. You don't know what's going on anymore, do you? 'Nee-san said as much."   
  
Eyes flashing, Fuji wrenched his hand away from hers as if she had burned him. "You... you spoke to my sister?"   
  
"Yes, just this morning after you left."   
  
Fuji's affable mask crumbled, revealing narrowed dark eyes and lips fixed in a grim line. "You... you betrayed my family. I know what you are, and you have no right to return to us. You have no right to address 'Nee-san with such familiarity. And even if she doesn't see through you, I do. What do you really want?"   
  
Fuji was surprised when Kirika lowered her head and averted her gaze, as if she were regretful. For a moment, he doubted himself, but then he recalled that five years had passed since their last encounter. As a first-rate assassin, Kirika probably would have used those years to develop new skills to help her in her murderous profession. She must have learned skills she would need to survive undetected, unsuspected.   
  
She must have learned to put on a mask, just as he had.   
  
"'Nee-san was the one who contacted me, Syusuke-kun."   
  
Fuji froze. "What?"   
  
"Now will you listen to me?" she pleaded, her voice a notch below a whisper, and she reached for his hand again.   
  
He flinched when her fingers found his, but he didn't pull away. He had to admit that the Kirika he had known seemed different from the one who stood in front of him, but he wasn't too sure if she was different in a good way or a bad way.   
  
"Why do you keep doing this?" he asked, suddenly curious.   
  
Confused, she looked up into his eyes. "Doing what?"   
  
"This," he raised their joined hands to her eye level reprimandingly, but he was confounded when he saw her face flush. It was not a reaction he had been expecting. "Did you take my hand in front of the whole school just to embarrass me or to start rumors about us? In case you didn't know, I'm not particularly fond of you."   
  
"I... gomen. I just needed to talk to you, and you weren't ready to listen," she explained, still keeping his hand in hers, her head bent low. "I need to connect with you, Syusuke-kun, and... this is the only way I know how."   
  
"Still, if you were trying to be inconspicuous about your mission, I think you just ruined any chance you had at keeping our... relationship... a secret."   
  
Kirika smiled, and Fuji found himself strangely fascinated. The Kirika he remembered had never smiled. The Kirika he had known had been in an eternally apathetic, murderous stupor. By contrast, the woman who stood before him smiled so easily yet so sadly... almost as if she meant it. Of course, she could have simply grown into a talented actress over the years, so he certainly wouldn't let his guard down in front of her.   
  
"Gomen... I didn't know you were that popular, so... I didn't mean to embarrass you... but this is also the first part of my assignment."   
  
"Your assignment?" Fuji arched an eyebrow. "All right... Since it involves my family, we *will* have a long talk about this."   
  
"But we have to do it somewhere private," she said quickly.   
  
"Well then... The Photography Room is usually empty at lunch," Fuji said after a moment's thought. "The sensei lets me stay there even when no one's around, so I think that's the safest place. We can lock the door. We won't be disturbed."   
  
"Let's go then," Kirika nodded her assent and followed Fuji as he pulled her down the hall, jogging lightly.   
  
As he led her towards his private, usually lonely sanctuary, Fuji realized that he was still holding her hand unnecessarily, and, for some perverse reason, he thought he might be enjoying the contact. He shuddered, but he didn't let go.   
  
He could only imagine how easy it would be for Kirika to snap his neck if both her hands were free.   
  


* * *

  
When Fuji and the new girl were out of sight, all the Seigaku tennis regulars, including lower classmen Kaidoh Kaoru, Momoshiro Takeshi, and Vice-Captain Echizen Ryoma, tumbled through the doorway of the cafeteria where they had been eavesdropping and landed spectacularly in a tangled heap of petrified limbs. Every one of their faces was red, from Kikumaru's, now indistinguishable from his hair, to Kaidoh's, which currently matched his bandanna. For a few painfully long moments, everyone refrained from speaking. Then, still trapped in the unmoving heap, Captain Oishi broke the awkward silence.   
  
"Secret... relationship?" he squeaked uncharacteristically.   
  
"Fuji-san's... fond of her?" Kawamura added dazedly from somewhere else in the pile.   
  
"Help on a homework assignment?" Momoshiro blurted out in shock. "That... Fuji-senpai... I didn't know he was such a sly-"   
  
"Fssssshhhh," hissed the Viper, blushing furiously.   
  
"They're... They're... They're doing... it..." Kikumaru babbled disbelievingly. "Fuji's doing it... Fuji... Fuji in the... Photography Room..."   
  
Echizen spoke with disinterest, but several of his teammates noticed that his indifference sounded distinctly forced. "So what?"   
  
For a few moments, no one replied.   
  
That was all it took for Kikumaru to explode. "OH MY GOD!!! FUJI'S GETTING LAID!!! FUJI!!!"   
  
A stunned silence followed, during which the image of the friendly, respected, amazing, invincible, God-like Fuji Syusuke that everyone had built up in his mind shattered in agonizingly slow motion. And then, from somewhere else in the jumbled mass of tennis players, Inui's calmly muttering voice was heard at last.   
  
"...and that is the situation. What do you think, Te-"   
  
A sudden pause. A beep of a cell phone.   
  
Then, "He hung up."   
  
  
  
  
-= End Chapter One =-   
  
  
  
End Notes:   
I adore Fuji. Can you tell? I also love that his potential goes far beyond tennis and that he has an air of mystery around him. That's precisely what allows Noir to blend into his world, and, as a result, Fuji and Kirika work beautifully together. After all, Kirika is the inwardly kind girl who would show emotions but has none, while Fuji is the inwardly not-so-nice (possibly cruel) boy who has emotions but refuses to show them. Ah, such sweet contrast...   
  
About Tezuka:   
Where is he? Mwahahaha... We'll see him in later chapters! Don't worry. I love Tezuka dearly, but I think he's too awesome to stay in high school tennis...   
  
About the Team:   
Since the story is Fuji-centric, and not tennis-centric, the rest of the PoT cast will play relatively minor roles. Mireille and Tezuka will show up again, but I won't say when or how they'll appear... just that they will, and they won't be too minor. ^_^   
  
  
~~ Japanese Translations and Definitions of Series-Specific Terms ~~   
  
Soldats – a worldwide criminal organization (like the Mafia, only more widespread and much more powerful)   
Noir – a codename for Kirika and Mireille's contract killing team   
True Noir – an author-created codename of Kirika and Mireille's new team whose purpose is to destroy Soldats   
-san – respectful suffix, good for any occasion   
-chan – familiar suffix usually used for/by girls and/or close friends   
-kun – familiar suffix usually used for/by boys and their peers   
arigatou – thank you   
hai – yes   
'Nee-san (Onee-san) – older sister   
gomen - sorry   
  
  
Please review and/or send questions, comments, and criticisms to rune_dreaming@yahoo.com! It is all greatly appreciated!   
  
Copyright (C) 2003 by Dark Rune. All rights reserved. 


	2. Security

Disclaimer, ratings, and other legal junk can be found in Chapter One.   
  
Reviewers:   
I'm surprised people are actually reading this, so thank you for your time! In return for giving this unusual story a chance, I hope to give readers (however few of you there may be ^_^) a memorable experience. It was my goal to do something original, after all, and this crossover certainly qualifies.   
  
Author's Notes:   
I recently learned that Japanese senior high schools last three years, not four. However, since I've already set the story in a four-year school, Seigaku will remain the way it is. I apologize for my ignorance. ^_^;;   
  
~ Dark Rune   
  
  
  
-= Level Two: Security =-   
  
  
The distant, gravelly hum of a car pulling into the driveway attracted eleven-year-old Fuji Syusuke's attention. Smiling as he sat at the breakfast table with his younger brother, who was currently scowling at a cereal box, Syusuke looked out the kitchen window and spotted a black sedan rolling to a stop just outside the house.   
  
"'Nee-san, are we supposed to have guests today?" Syusuke inquired, cheerily scooping food into his mouth.   
  
The oldest Fuji sibling, who was ten years Syusuke's senior, shot her brother a look of surprise as she took the seat opposite his. "Yes, how did you know?"   
  
"They've arrived," Syusuke pointed out the window amiably while 'accidentally' knocking over the cereal box. That action prompted his younger brother to scream with indignant fury.   
  
"HEY! I was just about to finish Pikachu's Shock-tastic Word Search!" Yuuta shouted, tugging relentlessly at his older sister's arm. "He did it on purpose! He did it on purpose!"   
  
But Fuji Yumiko didn't hear Yuuta. With a frown, she stood, peering out the window in an uncharacteristic show of anxiety. "They're already here?" she muttered as she gently pried the now crying Yuuta off her leg with a half-hearted reprimand in Syusuke's general vicinity.   
  
When she disappeared into the living room to greet the visitors, Syusuke smiled benignly at Yuuta and handed his brother the free cereal toy as a humble peace offering. Yuuta, naive ten-year-old that he was, stopped sniffling, beamed at Syusuke, and accepted the gift, completely forgetting that it had been his toy in the first place. Pacified, Yuuta returned to concentrating on his cereal box, and Syusuke resumed staring out the window, curious as to who might be visiting the Fuji family so early on a Sunday morning.   
  
In his experience, black sedans were bad. Passengers of black sedans invariably had some sort of government connection, and that meant that Syusuke, as the first son and heir of the Fuji family, might have to work. His smile withered. He hadn't felt like working ever since he started to play tennis, which was undoubtedly more entertaining than following the orders of boring old men in boring old suits.   
  
Syusuke really liked tennis, and his new friend Tezuka even said he was already pretty good for a beginner. Syusuke grinned as he recalled their match from the day before, and his imagination would have drifted on to images of his winning Wimbledon if the door of the sedan he was spying on hadn't swung open unexpectedly, jolting the daydreaming boy back to the present. His tennis ambitions stifled, Syusuke chided himself for allowing his mind to wander.   
  
Of course, the first person to step out of the foreboding black car, a somber man sporting a business suit and sunglasses, was predictable. The man had Disgruntled Government Lackey written all over his stiff posture, and Syusuke had to chuckle. Why couldn't those government types be less conspicuous? Syusuke was so much younger than they, yet he could do their jobs more efficiently and more successfully. It was kind of sad that Soldats was depending on such incompetent adults.   
  
"What are you laughing at?" Yuuta glared at his older brother, mistaking Syusuke's amusement for derision.   
  
Forcing his attention away from the window, Syusuke shook his head at Yuuta convincingly. "Nothing you need to worry about. I was just thinking of something that happened at school."   
  
While Yuuta had inherited his father's paranoia, he wasn't the smartest member of the household, so he grudgingly accepted Syusuke's explanation and went back to reading his cereal box. Syusuke's smile only grew as he regarded Yuuta affectionately. In truth, Syusuke had no valid reason to prey on Yuuta's gullibility, especially since he had incalculable experience deceiving people many times older and wiser. Manipulating Yuuta just felt rewarding to him because the younger boy reacted explosively whenever he was informed he'd been tricked. On the other hand, the adults Syusuke deceived consistently wound up either dead or unable to recognize their own reflections.   
  
Syusuke resisted the urge to ruffle Yuuta's hair and gazed outside once more. He expected another Soldats lackey to emerge from the sedan, so he was genuinely startled when a short girl, around his or Yuuta's age, stepped out of the car. She wasn't much to look at, really, with her messy brown hair, nondescript facial features, lifeless brown eyes, and a mouth that seemed somehow incapable of happiness. Her white sundress was obviously newly fitted, judging by the way she unconsciously squirmed where she stood, adjusting her shoulder straps every three seconds. In fact, Syusuke would have ignored her altogether after his initial assessment if she hadn't turned her head sharply in his direction and looked straight into his eyes.   
  
He dropped his spoon in astonishment. Again, Yuuta began howling accusingly, claiming that Syusuke must have dropped his spoon on purpose in order to splash milk at his face, but Syusuke failed to notice. This girl, with her eerily hollow expression, stared at him for ten impossible seconds, even though the windows were designed to keep people from spying inside the house. On top of that, Syusuke could only see her from where he was because he had excellent eyesight, good enough to snipe from a fair distance without needing telescopic lenses.   
  
So how could *she* possibly see *him*?   
  
Intrigued and strangely excited, Syusuke wolfed down the rest of his breakfast, dumped his used cereal bowl in the sink, and hurried towards the living room to surreptitiously observe the visitors from the doorway. As soon as he reached the hall, he skidded to a halt, hearing his sister's terse greetings, the low, rumbling response of the man from the sedan, and then the young girl's voice.   
  
"This will suffice," the girl said, leaking not a shred of emotion.   
  
His smile widened. For the first time in his life, Fuji Syusuke had found someone he couldn't understand or categorize, and he was thrilled.   
  


* * *

  
"Do you remember when we first met?" Kirika began, as Fuji locked the door to the Photography Room and carelessly tossed his book bag on a desk.   
  
Startled out of his reverie, he blinked at her, wondering how she had read his thoughts. "Of course I do," he replied, clearing his mind of unprecedented nostalgia.   
  
Kirika chose to sit in one of the desks towards the back of the room, but Fuji made no move to follow. He remained near the front, leaning against the teacher's desk with a subtly unpleasant smile.   
  
"What do you remember of that meeting?" Kirika asked quietly, though her voice had enough intensity to carry across the room.   
  
"I recall a girl who smiled too little," Fuji answered. "What do *you* remember?"   
  
She actually looked amused for a second. "A boy who smiled too much."   
  
He smirked back. "So how, exactly, does this pertain to our current discussion?"   
  
"I just want to prove a point," Kirika explained, slightly ruffled. "I don't believe you're the same person I first met six years ago, and I want you to know that I am also not the same person you saw six years ago."   
  
"So?"   
  
"So I want you to give me a chance to show you who I am now," she murmured, her eyes locking with his, "before you criticize me or discredit what I say before I say it. Please listen."   
  
"All right then. Speak." Fuji's smile was still plastered on even though his voice could have sliced steel. "Why are you here? Why did my sister call you here?"   
  
"My mission is to protect you."   
  
Fuji had to restrain himself from laughing out loud, and he gripped the edge of the table to steady himself. "You? Protecting me? Don't you find that just a bit ironic?"   
  
"I guess..."   
  
"And what would you protect me from? I must be truly pitiful since you consider me incapable of handling myself," Fuji mused, soft-spoken as always, but his normally soothing voice enhanced his biting sarcasm. "Now tell me. Why would my sister call someone working for Soldats when you know very well that-"  
  
"You are mistaken," she interjected. "I do not work for Soldats."   
  
In spite of his impressive control over his outward appearance, Fuji tensed. "You... you quit? I had no idea you were capable of thinking for yourself."   
  
"Yes, I quit," Kirika confirmed, unmoved by his casually thrown insult. "You remember I was working to become Noir?"   
  
"I couldn't forget even when I tried."   
  
Somehow, she ignored his accusing tone. "I found the woman who was to become the other half of Noir a year and a half ago, and we worked together in Paris for a while."   
  
Fuji's eyes narrowed even as he idly traced circles on the teacher's desk with his thumbs. "I'm sure you were quite happy murdering people for a living."   
  
"Not at all," she said grimly. "I couldn't feel anything after I left your family. I didn't remember much in the years following the... incident... and I suppose I must have been under too much stress afterwards because I developed amnesia."   
  
"Amnesia?" he repeated, irritation on the edge of his voice. "Really?"   
  
He knew there was no way Kirika could have forgotten the feel of warm blood splattering her face, heavily soaking her clothes and staining her arms crimson, because even *he* had nightmares about it still.   
  
Kirika shrugged. "I awoke one day without a clue as to who I was, and all I knew was how to kill people..." her voice trailed off and she looked away, but not before he glimpsed the darkness, the echoes of guilt, lurking just behind her eyes. "Syusuke-kun, you have no idea how it... how it frightened me. I think, deep down, I didn't want to kill anyone, but... it was the only thing I could do right."   
  
Fuji's grip on the table turned his knuckles bone-white. Since when had Yuumura Kirika felt guilty about anything? The notion of guilt was ludicrous in her profession, and it was even more doubtful for a murderer of her caliber. "So why aren't you working for Soldats?"   
  
Her eyes refused to meet his. "The more my partner and I fought Soldats, the more I started to remember my past," Kirika said, her voice reduced to a faint whisper. "It wasn't too long before I remembered everything, and after that," she paused, just long enough for Fuji to notice, "we defeated one of the leaders of Soldats. And from then on, my partner and I have been fighting them. Over the past year, we eliminated the majority of their European leaders."   
  
"Yet for all the good you think it does, it's still assassination, isn't it?" Fuji remarked. "It's just assassination in the name of world peace."   
  
Kirika blanched. "You're not... But we..."   
  
"In any case," he said, ignoring her crestfallen reaction, "I don't care if you're here to destroy Soldats. Just tell me why I have to be involved."   
  
Kirika spared a brief, almost angry glance out the window before she stood and approached Fuji, much to his surprise. "Do you know what 'Nee-san and her husband do, Syusuke-kun?"   
  
He frowned, unconsciously leaning back as she drew closer. "I don't know what you're implying, but Fuji Enterprises is no longer controlled by Soldats, Kirika-chan. Don't even think about associating my sister with that filth."   
  
"You're right about Fuji Enterprises," Kirika admitted, stopping just a half-step in front of him, "but you're wrong about 'Nee-san."   
  
"What are you talking about?"   
  
"When the Fuji family severed its ties from Soldats, it did not withdraw from the underworld without consequences."   
  
Fuji almost broke part of the desk he was holding; he didn't appreciate her quietly condescending reminder of what had happened half a decade ago, especially given her role in the bloody affair. "Kirika-chan, if you're trying to make me angry, you're succeeding rather well."   
  
"Unlike you, however," she said, brushing aside the threat in his soft tone, "'Nee-san held her anger instead of letting it go. She's been working towards her revenge for the past five years."   
  
Fuji paled, his underlying indignation now overshadowed by concern for his sister. "What are you talking about? What's 'Nee-san been doing?"   
  
"She's fighting Soldats," Kirika revealed at last, and he fleetingly thought that Kirika seemed apologetic for the briefest of moments. "The extended business trip 'Nee-san and her husband are taking to Kyoto has nothing to do with Fuji Enterprises, Syusuke-kun. 'Nee-san knows very well that she might die within the next three weeks."   
  
"But... she can't..." Fuji tried to slow his racing heartbeat and discovered that, for once, he couldn't control his outward reactions. "Why didn't she say anything to me? I can understand that she didn't tell Yuuta, but she would have told me!"   
  
"She couldn't put you in any more danger than you have been for the last five years," Kirika explained, placing her hands on Fuji's shoulders, but her touch only heightened his agitation. As he moved to shove her away, her hands grasped his shoulders tightly, trapping him, and then her eyes glanced down at his chest. "And you have a different role to play altogether, Syusuke-kun."   
  
What's she looking at? he thought furiously. Out of instinct, Fuji followed her gaze--and only then did he understand. A faint red spot of light was hovering innocently on his black school uniform, much like the beam of a laser pointer, except Fuji knew it wasn't. He would have recognized the sniper's trademark anywhere.   
  
Someone's trying to kill me, Fuji realized, too astounded to react because his world had abruptly deteriorated into the horror he had left behind five years ago. In the space of a heartbeat, Fuji lived through that rain-soaked night again, and he clearly saw the flash of metal, steel clashing upon steel, and a storm of bullets slicing shrilly through the falling rain, tearing through flesh as one of the wickedly grinning blades descended for the kill--   
  
"Syusuke!"   
  
Mother? No...   
  
That was Kirika's voice.   
  
Before he could utter a cry of protest, Kirika dragged him down in front of the teacher's desk. A split-second later, as he and Kirika fell to the floor, he heard the distant crack of shattering glass followed by a familiar whipping noise that sped perilously close his ear. As he hit the tiled floor, part of the desk exploded in a shower of splinters, and Fuji belatedly concluded that that was where he should have been lying, with a bullet embedded permanently in his chest.   
  
He felt nauseated.   
  
Breathlessly waiting for his adrenaline levels to drop, Fuji lay on his back, the shock of being targeted too much to accept all at once. Kirika only silently draped herself over him, her forearms resting on either side of Fuji's head, her face even with his, and the rest of her slender frame covering his body. If this weren't a life-threatening situation, Fuji's nose probably would have bled to no end because Kirika had never been the kind of girl who would concern herself much with propriety, let alone someone else's feelings. Swallowing hard and shutting his eyes for a moment, Fuji tilted his head sideways so he could see the front of the class. He watched the red dot shimmering on the whiteboard for a few indecisive seconds before it abruptly vanished, and he heaved a small sigh of relief.   
  
"You didn't even notice they were there, did you, Syusuke-kun?" Kirika whispered after a minute of tense stillness.   
  
"You're right... I didn't," he admitted ruefully, turning back towards her. "But if you knew they were there, why didn't you say anything?"   
  
"I didn't know it was a sniper," she confessed, looking mildly chagrined, and her relatively extreme display of emotion nearly won Fuji over. "I assumed it was someone sent from Soldats to spy on you, but I didn't expect an assassin."   
  
Fuji smiled wryly. "Aren't you supposed to protect me?"   
  
"Yes," she said, and her cheeks actually turned pink. "And you're still alive, aren't you?"   
  
His eyebrows shot up at her light attempt at humor, and he began to consider the possibility that she may have changed, after all. "My reflexes need a bit of fine-tuning..."   
  
"That's also true. After so long, you never knew how well protected you were," she observed, still not moving from her position on his chest, and if it weren't for her serious expression, Fuji thought she might have enjoyed curling up on him and purring. "'Nee-san went through a lot of trouble to keep both you and Yuuta-kun safe and unaware of the danger."   
  
Fuji nodded. "Even so, she should have told me... I could have helped."   
  
Kirika looked up cautiously, out the windows and towards the trees where she had first spotted the sniper. From his perspective on the floor, Fuji noticed a thin line on her right cheek where the bullet must have grazed her. Although he had believed that the shot had been close to him, the deadly projectile had been much too close to her.   
  
"You're bleeding," he murmured, reaching up with a hand to cup her face and brushing the skin just beneath her cut with his thumb. Regardless of what she had done in the past, Kirika had saved his life, and Fuji had enough honor to show even a little respect for anyone who would risk herself for him. "Gomen, Kirika-chan... I... I shouldn't have doubted you."   
  
When her eyes met his once again, they nearly overwhelmed him with their brooding intensity, but before he could comment, Kirika stood up and offered a hand to help him up. He accepted it.   
  
"It's my job to protect you," she said simply, wiping her cheek with a handkerchief she pulled out of her pocket as he dusted the back of his slacks. "There is no need for thanks. We've had worse injuries before, and this is really my fault for leaving you out in the open. I didn't think they would attack before 'Nee-san left, and I didn't think they would attack at school so early."   
  
Fuji followed her line of sight out the window, which now had a barely noticeable bullet-sized hole. He searched for signs in the trees in the distance but found nothing amiss, as he had predicted. Of course the sniper would have left by now; Kirika didn't even bother giving the tree line more than a perfunctory glance, knowing there was no way to track the assassin at this point. "Still," he grimaced, "it's been so long since I've had to watch myself. I wasn't expecting that."   
  
"You didn't believe my warning," she said, picking the bullet out of the desk and placing it in her jacket pocket. After calmly sweeping the splinters into the wastebasket, she led a more subdued Fuji to a darkened corner of the room, well away from the windows. There, he collapsed on the floor and leaned back against the wall, the strength in his legs wearing thin. She wordlessly sat next to him and regarded him for a moment before turning away again. "Syusuke-kun, as part of my assignment, you will train with me over the next three weeks to brush up on your skills. Just in case 'Nee-san does not return..."   
  
"Of course," Fuji whispered. After a moment, he smiled in his familiar close-eyed manner, though he felt none of the happiness associated with the act. "I understand. I should at least know how to seek vengeance if 'Nee-san doesn't come back."   
  
"Actually, 'Nee-san said you should practice just enough to be able to defend yourself and Yuuta-kun, and that you should seek help from True Noir if she fails."   
  
"Wait... Yuuta is in danger?" Fuji straightened, turning his head to face Kirika.   
  
"He's not in as much danger as you," she replied appeasingly. "He's protected, so don't worry about him. Soldats believes that the Fuji family might be rebelling, but they're not sure the information they have is accurate. That's why they're after you and not Yuuta-kun. Only you know enough to destroy them, and only you might be able to overpower them. Because your family is such a high-profile family, however, Soldats doesn't want to bring attention to you. It's actually fortunate that they suspect you more than 'Nee-san, because she can do her job more easily with you as a decoy."   
  
"So... that's what you meant by my role, isn't it?" Fuji mused bitterly. "I'm the decoy."   
  
"Hai," Kirika answered. "'Nee-san knew you would never voluntarily be the diversion, that you would want to participate directly in destroying Soldats, which is why she didn't tell you anything. That's why I'm here..."   
  
Fuji mulled over Kirika's words for a while as relaxed back against the wall and stared at the ceiling. He needed to have a long talk with his sister as soon as he got back from school, but he would have to catch her before she left for Kyoto. He wanted to yell at her for not telling him anything, for using him as a sitting duck just so she could stab those Soldats bastards while they were distracted. She had forgotten that this should be his vengeance as much as it was hers.   
  
Fuji's smile wavered when he realized that he would have to skip tennis practice if he wanted to have a discussion with his sister. He was already annoyed that she hadn't informed him of anything until Kirika arrived, but missing tennis practice was too much. He sighed. If he had only known what was going on... he would have gone to Kyoto with her.   
  
"Syusuke-kun?" Kirika whispered, nudging him carefully with her elbow.   
  
Fuji blinked. Maybe he *would* follow Yumiko after all. There was nothing holding him in Tokyo anyway, because it wasn't as if he needed to keep going to class to get accepted into a university. The Fuji name was famous enough to guarantee him entrance anywhere he wished, and his home education was advanced enough to secure him top marks on any entrance exam. "I want to go to Kyoto," he declared at last, startling Kirika.   
  
She was quick to recover. "Syusuke-kun, my assignment requires that I stay in Tokyo--"   
  
"Which is why," he interjected affably, "I'm not asking you to come with me."   
  
"But I am required by contract to stay with you," she shot back, without batting an eyelash. "Therefore, you will stay in Tokyo, and you will not go anywhere for three weeks. After that time limit has expired, you may go wherever you please."   
  
His emotions shining through cracks in his smiling mask, Fuji growled, "You can't keep me here."   
  
"Yes, I can. My role as your bodyguard will see to that," Kirika maintained confidently. "Besides, if 'Nee-san herself requires years of preparation to infiltrate Soldats, how do you think you'll get inside their headquarters when you can't even detect a sniper at school?"   
  
Damn. He really hated that Kirika was right. Fuji's spirits deflated because his fighting skills were admittedly rusty after five years of neglect. Holding a tennis racket was just not the same as wielding a katana, regardless of how similar some moves might be, so he wouldn't stand a chance even if he went to Kyoto.   
  
"Your sister wanted you uninvolved for as long as possible," Kirika sighed, rubbing her eyes. "And if you still want to argue with her, you can't, because she already left for Kyoto this morning."   
  
Fuji's face twitched with the knowledge that his sister had fled early just so he would not have a chance to dissuade her. If there was one thing Fuji hated above everything else, it was being manipulated. Before he could speak again, however, the school bell rang, and the protests died in his throat.   
  
There was nothing more he could say anyway. When Yumiko planned something, she planned it well, and so he would be stuck in Tokyo for the next three weeks. Undoubtedly, Kirika would break his tennis arm if he tried to leave because Kirika always followed orders, regardless of how ruthless she would need to be. For a few seconds after the bell rang, Fuji remained seated, feeling muddled as he stared at the ceiling, until Kirika's gentle hand on his arm brought him out of his trance.   
  
"We need to go to class," she pointed out dryly. "Are you all right?"   
  
He nodded. Silently, he got to his feet, and Kirika stood beside him, unmoving.   
  
"We'll continue this discussion after school," Fuji decided, and she nodded as they picked up their bags on their way out of the classroom. He opened the door for Kirika, and she actually smiled at him as she walked past, as if no one had ever treated her with any sort of chivalry before. Not for the first time that day, Fuji was surprised. "Are you coming to tennis practice then, Yuumura-chan?"   
  
The change in his tone was necessary since they were now in a hallway crowded with students. Without a word, she took his hand in hers again, and this time, he managed not to look too shocked. "Yes, I am, Fuji-kun," she responded. "My interest in tennis hasn't changed."   
  
Carefully controlling his blush, Fuji tried to ignore her hand and the electric warmth seeping through her skin and into his. Everyone who knew him was now gawking, so, almost pleadingly, he mumbled under his breath, "Why are you still holding my hand? I thought you were just trying to get my attention the first time."   
  
"Well, there's actually one last thing that 'Nee-san wanted you to know about my role here," Kirika whispered back as they waded through the mass of jabbering students.   
  
Fuji absently caught a needle-pointed paper airplane aimed at Kirika (most likely by a jealous female student) and tossed it carelessly into a garbage can. "And that is?"   
  
"We're, um..." Kirika flushed a little, and he noted her uncharacteristic distress with increasing alarm, "well, you see..."   
  
"What is it?" he asked, just as they arrived in front of their classroom.   
  
Her blush deepened. "Well... it's just that... you and I are... betrothed."   
  
Only Fuji's extreme control and sharp reflexes saved the young man from stumbling gracelessly over his own shoelaces.   
  


* * *

  
Inui Sadaharu scowled. If the data his test subjects, er, *teammates*, had gathered only a few minutes ago were correct, then the Seigaku tennis team might be in serious trouble very soon. However, he had to be absolutely certain this information was true before he could formulate a plan to properly counter it.   
  
"Are you sure about this?" Inui questioned, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose as he looked sternly at the tennis regulars gathered in the empty locker room.   
  
Oishi, Echizen, Kawamura, and Kaidoh were pointedly looking away, but the tell-tale redness of their cheeks showed that they, too, had witnessed what Momoshiro and Kikumaru were loudly proclaiming.   
  
"Well what do you want? Pictures!?" Momoshiro cried, appalled. "We know what we saw! It was horrifying!"   
  
Kikumaru looked as if he was on the verge of crying. "Fuji... we shouldn't have followed them... ARGH!" he shook his head furiously. "The memory! IT BURNS!!!" With that, the acrobatic redhead collapsed into a sitting position on the floor, holding his head in his hands.   
  
"Well, maybe we're wrong," Oishi suggested weakly, reaching out to pat his traumatized doubles partner on the back. "Maybe we just mistook it for something else. We all only peeked through the back door for a second, and we know Fuji wouldn't do anything *that* bad at school."   
  
"*Fuji-senpai* wouldn't," Momoshiro hastily agreed, "but we know nothing about *her*! We don't even know how they know each other! And besides, *he* wasn't the one on top!"   
  
"I see," Inui muttered, taking notes diligently while the other tennis players battled a sudden onslaught of nausea. There was silence as everyone waited for Inui's logical solution, the stillness only broken from time to time by Kikumaru's quietly repeated words, which sounded suspiciously like, "I can't believe he did it before me. How can he beat me at my own specialty? I can't believe he did it before me. How can he..."   
  
Finally, Inui spoke again. "Girls have always been a problem in this team, ever since Oishi acquired one for himself last year and spent 47% more time on dates than working on his weak side."   
  
The captain's ears quickly turned as red as his face.   
  
"After that, the Golden Pair's coordination was thrown off by 12%, dragging the rhythm of the entire team down 6.4%," Inui continued. "To make matters worse, Momoshiro then selected a female specimen from our Fudomine rivals, an act which disrupted our team for eleven straight practice days and resulted in a total of seven belligerent encounters with random Fudomine team members, including the Fudomine captain."   
  
"Ann-chan is NOT a specimen!" Momoshiro yelled hotly, and he was quickly restrained by the struggling peacemakers Oishi and Kawamura.   
  
"Also, I have observed that Echizen's game deteriorates 5.8% whenever Ryuzaki-sensei's granddaughter is around," Inui added, and Echizen sputtered in disbelief, "which may or may not have caused him to lose the first ranking game against Fuji. Badly."   
  
The young Vice-Captain was seething, but he stoutly refused to show it.   
  
"Meanwhile," Inui talked on without remorse, "Kikumaru's tendency to switch from one female subject to another has resulted in a 97% increase in bulk hate mail and a 20% increase in fan mail in the tennis team inbox, which lowers morale 43% whenever the younger team members collect the letters. However, I will congratulate Kaidoh and Taka-san for keeping their respective personal lives from interfering with their games."   
  
Everyone stared at Kaidoh (blushing madly) and Kawamura (smiling shyly) in amazement.   
  
"Well the only reason the Snake's love life hasn't interfered is 'cause he has no love life!" Momoshiro declared with a wicked grin. In response, Kaidoh, whose complexion now rivaled a ripe tomato's, hissed at Momoshiro.   
  
"But the point is, 66.7% of love affairs have affected the tennis club negatively. Fuji is the optimistic backbone of the team, and as he has never indulged in relationships before, the team has always had his full support. Therefore, I cannot predict how this new entanglement will affect our group's play," Inui said, clearing his throat. "In other words, I need more data."   
  
After such a long, humiliating analysis, everyone was dumbfounded by Inui's lack of a plan, but Inui only cleared his throat again as he flipped through Notebook #12D094X.   
  
"So... you don't know what will happen to the team or what Fuji-senpai will do," Echizen concluded bluntly, "and you have no idea what to do about anything."   
  
"Well, I do know that there is an 84.72% chance that a relationship involving Fuji will cause bedlam."   
  
Echizen folded his arms across his chest, disgust clear in his eyes and the downward curve of his mouth. "We're wasting time with your data, then. Ja. I have better things to do, and I still don't like your style, Inui-senpai."   
  
The Vice-Captain stalked out of the locker room, unconcerned, much to the shock of his teammates. The air literally seemed colder without the boy that former Captain Tezuka had called the "pillar of support," and everyone at last understood what Tezuka's words meant.   
  
Oishi was the first to talk reasonably after Echizen left. "You know, he has a good point. We don't know anything concrete. It could all just be a big misunderstanding, so I think we should wait until after school to talk to Fuji and find out what's really going on." The looks on everyone's faces displayed unanimous doubt, but after taking a deep breath, Oishi bravely pressed on. "Besides, Fuji's personal life should be none of our business, and it's not like anyone's getting hurt by it. We shouldn't have been spying on him, so we should all just--"   
  
The bell rang, merrily signaling the end of lunch and rudely interrupting the desperate-looking Oishi.   
  
"We should all go to class!" Kikumaru finished Oishi's sentence as soon as the bell stopped ringing, and he leaped to his feet in a forward flip that shocked everyone. Oishi sighed, knowing his partner's newfound energy was probably fueled by thoughts of this girl in class whom Kikumaru had been eyeing for a while... "Let's go!" Kikumaru chirped happily.   
  
"All right everyone. Meeting adjourned, I guess," Oishi announced, and the tennis players quietly turned to leave.   
  
Pushing his glasses higher up on his nose, Inui watched the tennis team file out the door in a thoughtful, moody procession. He wasn't satisfied by the team meeting because there was still one important person whose opinion he had yet to consult. As he walked to class by himself, Inui took out his cell phone, scrolled through his phone book, found the number he needed, and dialed without hesitation.   
  
Of course, only fifteen seconds later, Tezuka Kunimitsu had hung up. Interruptions just before he went to bed irritated him.   
  
  
  
-= End Chapter Two =-   
  
  
Chapter Started: July 16, 2003   
Chapter Finished: July 20, 2003   
  
End Notes:   
Special thanks go to sakura2814 for telling me that Fuji's sister's name is Yumiko. I had originally picked a name at random, knowing nothing about her. ^_^ Thanks again!   
  
In the next chapter, I'll focus on Kirika's perspective, since the other half of this crossover is Kirika's, after all. IMO, Kirika is supremely understated in Noir, though she reveals herself early on to be an insanely awesome character (Episodes 1, 3, 6, and 26 come quickly to mind) with tons of potential beyond what was shown. I couldn't resist. ^_^   
  
  
~ Japanese Translations ~   
-senpai – suffix used to address a student/co-worker with more seniority   
ja – see you later (informal)   
  
  
Please review and/or send questions, comments, and criticisms to rune_dreaming@yahoo.com! I love hearing from readers!   
  
Copyright (C) 2003 by Dark Rune. All rights reserved. 


	3. Positive ID

Disclaimer, ratings, and other legal junk may be retrieved in the first chapter.   
  
Reviewers: Thank you, everyone! It's encouraging to see people writing reviews of decent length and detail, which shows me you actually care about what happens. I'm very grateful, so thank you very much for your time!   
  
Author's Notes:   
This story is so unbelievably fun to write that I've been neglecting important duties (e.g. eating, sleeping, studying). As much fun as this is, however, I will have to take a break so that I can focus on my finals. I also need to get back into the rhythm of writing more chapters of my CCS fic, so please don't expect updates too frequently after this. I'll try to post a chapter for one of my stories every other Friday, but once the school year starts, I can't guarantee I'll keep that pace up.   
  
Anyway, I hope you enjoy! ^_^   
  
~ Dark Rune   
  
  
  
-= Level Three: Positive ID =-   
  
  
Let it never be said that Yuumura Kirika didn't have a sense of humor--a particularly evil, twisted sense of humor.   
  
It was unreasonably satisfying for her to stare at the back of Syusuke-kun's head for the duration of the afternoon classes because from her vantage point, she could watch him squirm and count the beads of sweat forming on his neck, just barely visible under his unruly chestnut hair. As the final hour of the school day drew to a close, Syusuke had obviously reached his breaking point; when the sensei called on him, he responded with a catatonic smile. That might have been the first instance that anyone had made Syusuke uncomfortable enough to sweat in an inactive, non-life-threatening situation, and Kirika felt a measure of pride for being the cause of his discomfort.   
  
The Fuji cruelty factor must be rubbing off on me, Kirika decided, inwardly cringing. Except for Yuuta, the sheltered black sheep, the Fujis had been renowned manipulators in the underworld for over a century. Even after they left Soldats, their ruthless exploits had remained legendary, and Syusuke's parents were especially infamous for disposing of their enemies through the most torturous methods imaginable.   
  
I never want to be as terrible as they were, Kirika vowed solemnly, but as quickly as the thought entered her mind, Kirika scolded herself.   
  
It was disrespectful to think ill of the dead.   
  
Besides, the remarkable Fuji family loyalty had balanced out the family's various misdeeds. Kirika remembered how easy it was to work with Syusuke because he always backed her up as if she were family. While they had been nowhere near the level of True Noir now, they had performed with frightening efficiency.   
  
But for all our success, Kirika thought with a sigh, our partnership was doomed from the beginning.   
  
The memory humbled her. She admittedly deserved Syusuke's resentment, but she was ill prepared to handle it. Each time he calmly alluded to the blood bath of five years ago, she felt an imaginary knife in her chest twist with every subtle accusation he threw, pushing the guilt deeper into her heart. He probably knew how much he was hurting her, and he was probably savoring it, but she couldn't blame him. If she had been in his position...   
  
Kirika stopped her train of thought, realizing that she could never truly understand his point of view. She didn't grow up with anyone close enough to call family. She didn't grow up with anyone who cared about her. Her apologies, no matter how sincere, must really be worthless to him. As much as she deserved his hatred, however, Kirika knew she had to stop feeling sorry for herself.   
  
What was it that Mireille had ordered her to say at least twice a day?   
  
"I will be redeemed if I repent..." Kirika muttered under her breath, wincing at the cheesiness of Mireille's well-meaning words. "I will be redeemed if I repent. I will be redeemed if--"   
  
The bell rang.   
  
Startled out of her concentrated chanting, she glanced up at the clock mounted above the blackboard, blinked, then smiled as she realized that the end of school signaled the beginning of club activities.   
  
Syusuke-kun must look different when he's holding a racket, she mused, and her smile grew with the anticipation of watching Syusuke play. While Syusuke could kill with admirable grace and competence, he had never been passionate about assassination. Tennis, on the other hand, was a completely different, completely voluntary chapter of Syusuke's life. Without a doubt, his tennis would be a sight to behold.   
  
"Shall we go, Fuji-kun?" Kirika inquired, picking up her bag and standing next to his desk.   
  
Syusuke seemed to snap out of the daze he'd been in and nodded, amidst the fervent whispers and furtive glances of their classmates. Kirika was glad her semi-ambiguous relationship with Syusuke had scared away students who wanted to introduce themselves to her because she felt no compulsion to meet anyone beyond what was required of her mission.   
  
"Since you're interested in tennis, I'll introduce you to Ryuzaki-sensei," Syusuke said cheerfully, gathering his belongings and walking with her out the door. To anyone else, he must have appeared perfectly composed, even as she smoothly reached for his left hand, but Kirika saw the strain in his smile, felt the light sheen of cold sweat on his fingertips and the crushing force of his grip. Her amusement returned in full despite her somewhat guilty complex.   
  
"I'm actually just considering being the manager of the tennis team," Kirika revealed as they walked down the hallway.   
  
"Really? I thought you wanted to play," Syusuke said, nodding politely at some of his (blatantly staring) acquaintances while tightening his hold on her hand. It was almost as if he were seeking revenge through any amount of pain he could inflict on her.   
  
"I said I was interested in tennis," Kirika pointed out, squeezing his hand in return, "not that I wished to play. Does your team have a manager? According to my sources, Inui-san is doubling as a player and manager."   
  
"That's true," Syusuke admitted, his free hand now twitching, "but Inui likes having control. He won't appreciate someone else rearranging his training schedules. Even Oishi doesn't interfere and usually limits himself to punishing players with laps."   
  
"I think Inui-san could use my help," Kirika insisted, noticing Syusuke's raised eyebrows.   
  
Syusuke didn't respond further, instead guiding her gallantly into the first empty classroom he spotted. But as soon as he closed the door, he practically flung her hand away from his, his smile gone, his open eyes piercing.   
  
"Kirika-chan, you may have saved my life today, but that doesn't absolve you of your sins," he snarled. "You have no right to be in my family."   
  
Kirika was actually relieved.   
  
This was the true face of Fuji Syusuke, someone she found much more interesting--and somehow much safer--than the fake Fuji-san that everyone else knew and unsuspectingly admired. This was the ruthless young man hiding behind the fatally misleading mask of the prodigy. This was the real Syusuke: guilty, unforgiving, cruel, loyal, and driven. Not too long ago, she had admired him for feeling all the things she couldn't.   
  
"I know," Kirika replied simply.   
  
His anger increased. "Don't mock me. I can tolerate your presence in a mission, but I will NOT be bound to you for the rest of my life. I would rather kill you," he growled, his voice bristling with controlled impatience. The drastic change in his attitude probably would have unsettled even Tezuka-san. "Now explain."   
  
As fun as it was toying with Syusuke's emotions, however, it was also dangerous. Kirika noted that his right hand was twitching again, as if he were about to reach across for something on his left hip. She really needed to calm him down before he went on a murderous rampage.   
  
"All right. I will explain," she began, leaning tiredly against a desk. "According to 'Nee-san, I am the daughter of an old friend of your parents. We have been betrothed since we were children so that we would strengthen our respective businesses once we were of age and got married."   
  
"So... our engagement isn't real after all?"   
  
"Of course it isn't," she said, managing to hold back a smile. "Arranged marriages are unnecessary outside of Soldats."   
  
Syusuke released a deep, cleansing breath, looking infinitely relieved. Kirika thought she should feel at least mildly insulted that he was so revolted by the idea of a betrothal to her. "But why do you have such an obvious relation to me?" he asked, and though he appeared more rational than he was a few minutes before, his voice betrayed residual traces of annoyance. "It will attract attention, and that defeats the purpose of having a cover in the first place."   
  
She wondered if he was even aware that he clenched and unclenched his fists when he was seriously irritated. "Yuumura Kirika was originally created by Soldats to be a foolproof identity for their female assassins," Kirika explained, eyeing Syusuke's restless posture warily. "After I left for France, my identity was used often by 'Nee-san's contacts in Kyoto, so now, in conjunction with your name, Yuumura Kirika will undoubtedly attract Soldats' full attention. That distraction will facilitate 'Nee-san's movements inside Soldats."   
  
Perhaps the mention of the danger his sister was in calmed Syusuke down further. When he spoke, his voice had become more coldly professional. "All right, I accept that 'Nee-san might need me as a 'diversion,'" he spat the term with refined disgust, "but there has to be more than that. What else are you not telling me?"   
  
She thought for a moment. "Well..."   
  
"Well what?"   
  
"There's another detail," Kirika said, biting her bottom lip uncertainly. "You might not be too happy about it, but it can't be helped."   
  
"And that is...?"   
  
She sighed. "I will be staying at your house for the duration of the mission."   
  
She was almost sorry to have inflicted the sudden paleness on Syusuke's cheeks. "You're... you're... staying at my house?" he glared, his anger rekindled. "Do you realize how ridiculous that is? Does *'Nee-san* realize how ridiculous that is?"   
  
"Well, would you rather have me guard you from a distance?" she countered calmly. "I'm still required by contract to remain at your side for the next three weeks."   
  
"So what guarantee do I have that you won't strangle me in my sleep over the next three weeks?"   
  
"The same guarantee I have that you won't strangle me in my sleep. This was 'Nee-san's idea, Syusuke-kun," Kirika retorted, her patience growing limited. "In case you've forgotten, I saved your life, and I am bound by my honor and my contract to protect you--"  
  
"Honor?" Syusuke interrupted, his features darkening into a formidable scowl. Apparently, that had been the wrong thing to say to him. "So is that what you felt five years ago, while you were slaughtering the people who--"  
  
But Kirika didn't want to hear his accusations. She couldn't bear them--not now, not when she was trying so hard to make up for everything that she done in her life. "That was FIVE YEARS ago, and it was my duty to Soldats--"  
  
"My family took you in, protected you, trained you, fed you--"  
  
She wanted him to stop, but his accusing eyes seared hers, and his soft voice burned with practiced cruelty. "Your parents were rebels," Kirika retorted stubbornly, "who had the power to destroy the people who gave me the only life I knew--"  
  
"--clothed you, treated you like a second daughter--"  
  
She wanted him to stop, and in spite of her quiet nature, her tone gradually, desperately, escalated with his. "It was my MISSION, and just like you, I had to follow orders--"  
  
"ORDERS!? What happened to loyalty, to family? You were with us for a whole YEAR and--"  
  
"You KNOW as well as I do that knowing someone for a year doesn't mean ANYTHING--"  
  
"YES IT DOES! It meant EVERYTHING to me!"   
  
"You... you NEVER told me anything! How was I supposed to know how you felt if all you ever did was SMILE at me? And even if you HAD told me anything, how could I believe you when I didn't even know how families were supposed to act--"  
  
"EXACTLY! You didn't KNOW. You didn't WANT to know. All you were EVER interested in was the next mission and the next training session, so I don't care if you saved my life! You turned on everyone before and YOU CAN JUST AS WELL TURN ON US AGAIN--"  
  
"People can change--"  
  
"--YOU UNGRATEFUL, EMOTIONLESS--"  
  
"I can..." Kirika paled, the turmoil within her screaming for release. "No..."   
  
"--BACK-STABBING, COLD-BLOODED--"   
  
"Stop!"   
  
"--LYING, RUTHLESS--"   
  
"Please..."   
  
She wasn't emotionless. She wasn't an android. She wasn't a--   
  
"--MURDERER!"   
  
No.   
  
"I'm NOT a murderer!" Kirika shouted at last, her face red, her eyes stinging with unexpected tears as she sank to the floor. "I'm not a murderer... I'm not a... Mireille says... I don't... I don't have to be... after Soldats..."   
  
A heavy silence followed. Syusuke was breathing hard, staring at her with an unreadable expression, but he didn't respond to her outburst, as if she had somehow struck him.   
  
"I'm not here to spy on you or to kill you," she whispered despairingly, turning so that he wouldn't see her blinking her tears away. She couldn't stop her body from shaking, couldn't stop the shivers shooting through her spine and through her heart. "People CAN change, Syusuke-kun. People can change. At least... Let me believe I can..."   
  
For a moment, she thought he might leave, or even try to kill her, as futile as that option might be for him; though he had been a great assassin, even his skill had never been able to match hers. Then again, in her current state, Kirika wouldn't have the will to fight back.   
  
"Gomen, Kirika-chan."   
  
She looked up at him, stunned.   
  
"I had no right to call you that," he continued, his anger gone, and in its place was a listless undercurrent of self-hatred that did not suit him at all. "I... I was just as bad."   
  
He fell silent. After a while, Kirika looked out the windows again, and she noticed that most of the students had already gone home. Syusuke was going to be late for tennis practice.   
  
"We're pathetic, aren't we?" Syusuke chuckled harshly, slumping down against the door. "What was 'Nee-san thinking, assigning you to me? Having us pretend to be betrothed, no less."   
  
Kirika shrugged. "I don't pretend to know exactly what 'Nee-san was thinking, but I do plan on respecting my employer's wishes. I will protect you, regardless of how you treat me."   
  
"Really?" he said, his tone scornful.   
  
"Syusuke-kun, I'm sorry for what I did," she whispered. "Please believe me. If I could bring them back, I would."   
  
"But you can't," he shot back, "so save your apology for something you can actually make up for."   
  
Kirika flinched. She hated the way he looked at her, the condescension in his tone, how he wouldn't even consider forgiving her. She hated his hypocrisy, but most of all, she hated the fact that, in spite of everything, his self-righteous loathing was entirely justified. Regardless of how guilty Syusuke was, Kirika was still ultimately at fault.   
  
But that was the last insult she would bear.   
  
"Fine," Kirika straightened, coming to a sudden, enlightening decision. She would take Mireille's words to heart: redemption through repentance. She hoped Mireille would be proud of her. "I'll give you your vengeance, Syusuke-kun."   
  
His eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"   
  
She took a deep breath, bracing herself mentally. "At the end of these three weeks, you may take my life, and I will not defend myself. I know it won't bring your parents back, but my life is all I have to give, and you can have it."   
  
His mouth dropped open. "You... are you serious?"   
  
"Just as long as you agree to cooperate fully with me on this mission," she added, her resolve growing stronger the more she spoke, "you can do what you wish to me in the end. I will not fight back."   
  
"But... you're still..." he hesitated, seemingly torn between guilt and a need for a long overdue revenge that his sister had denied him. At length, he turned away, his eyes hidden underneath his bangs. "All right. I accept your terms."   
  
"So that's settled, then," she smiled, relieved that she would be able to complete this mission after all. Mireille and 'Nee-san were relying on her. "Are you all right?"   
  
"That's a strange question to ask. Have you forgotten what you just pledged to me?" he smirked, yet his mood seemed to be just as somber as before, if not more so. Syusuke sighed, closing his eyes. "Just promise me something else."   
  
Kirika frowned, wondering what more he could possibly want from her. "What is it?"   
  
"Promise me that you won't interfere with tennis."   
  
She blinked, surprised and more than a little confused. "I don't see how I can give you that..."   
  
"I don't think you understand," he looked at her grimly now, slowly rising to his feet. "Kirika-chan, if you're worth anything as a bodyguard, as Noir, you will not allow your work to interfere with my game. When my team is in the courts, Soldats simply does *not* exist. Soldats *cannot* exist. Do you understand?"   
  
She stared at him, trying to decipher the meaning behind the unyielding seriousness of his gaze, the tension in his back and the line of his jaw. This was a layer of Syusuke that she never knew existed, and it struck her then that, although she knew him better than most people, she only knew what little he had revealed of himself half a decade ago. Her knowledge was nowhere near enough to completely unmask him.   
  
"I promise not to let any harm to come to your friends," she vowed at last.   
  
"No. That's just it. I'm not merely asking for their safety," he declared, his voice growing more intense. "I want you to keep your world entirely separate from mine, Kirika-chan. My parents sacrificed themselves so that 'Nee-san and I could leave this hell behind five years ago, and you will NOT drag my life back into it. 'Nee-san may use my name and my safety to destroy Soldats, but I will not go back."   
  
At that moment, everything clicked into place.   
  
At that moment, Kirika finally understood what Syusuke felt when he played tennis because she realized it was exactly what she felt whenever she poured her heart into her watercolors. Like an artist struck by inspiration, she suddenly couldn't wait to watch Syusuke play.   
  
"I *do* understand, Syusuke-kun," Kirika murmured, meeting his eyes and praying that he could feel her sincerity as much as she felt his pain. "And I promise."   
  
"Are you still interested in being the manager, then?"   
  
She regarded him for a moment. "On second thought," she said slowly, "I think... I think I'll be happier just as a spectator."   
  
He smiled, a genuinely boyish Syusuke smile, and without hesitation, he held his hand out to her. "Good."   
  
Syusuke could be a genuinely nice guy when he chose to be. Perhaps the rest of her life wouldn't be so bad after all.   
  


* * *

  
Ryuzaki Sumire seemed like a very nice lady, but a dropped jaw was unbecoming even on someone as dignified as she was.   
  
"Excuse me?" she blinked, obviously unable to accept that the young man standing in her office was really Syusuke.   
  
"I would like you to meet Yuumura Kirika, my fiancee," Syusuke repeated patiently, and Kirika felt him cringe again through their linked hands.   
  
He had claimed he might need time to become accustomed to referring to Kirika as his future wife, and although Kirika had never been particularly vain, she felt somewhat offended. Really, how repulsive was she that Syusuke needed to "practice" thinking about her in a more positive light?   
  
Ryuzaki-sensei recovered from her shock, rising from her seat to offer a slightly trembling hand out to Syusuke and Kirika. "Congratulations. It's nice to meet you, Yuumura... and I didn't know you were... erm... seeing someone... Fuji."   
  
Syusuke only smiled, accepting the handshake from his tennis coach. "I thought you might want to know. Yuumura-chan will be at practice often, and I didn't want you to be surprised or confused about her presence."   
  
"Oh, I'm not," Ryuzaki-sensei assured him unconvincingly, clutching her chest as if she were having a heart attack. "Don't worry."   
  
"We were childhood friends, and we've been betrothed since we were young," Kirika helpfully supplied as the sensei turned to her to shake her hand.   
  
"Oh, I see," Ryuzaki-sensei nodded, casting a glance at Syusuke as she sat back down, her face now turning quite a lovely shade of blue. Kirika thought to offer the hyperventilating sensei a glass of water, then dropped the idea. Ryuzaki-sensei actually looked as if she could use a few painkillers.   
  
Syusuke smiled on. "We'll go downstairs now. I'm a bit late for practice. Is that all right?"   
  
The tennis coach nodded, then vigorously shook her head, then nodded again. Her communication skills had been apparently reduced to primitive physical gestures and ape-like grunts, so Kirika interpreted the response as an acceptable signal to leave.   
  
Syusuke and Kirika bowed together, and when they turned around and left the office, they had equally wicked expressions on their faces. Of course, to the casual onlooker, Syusuke would appear to be smiling cheerfully and Kirika would seem aloof, but the two of them could see the mischief clearly shining in each other's eyes.   
  
"I had almost forgotten how much fun it was manipulating people other than Yuuta," Syusuke admitted gleefully as they strolled down the empty hallway.   
  
"You were too busy being embarrassed and annoyed to savor people's reactions this morning," Kirika observed, and her small smile would have made Mireille squeal with delight. Mireille always said Kirika should smile more often. "By the way, does the sensei always leave her mouth open like that? Flies are not a healthy part of any diet. Do you think she noticed that she ate one?"   
  
"No, I don't think she did," Syusuke chuckled as they went down a stairwell. As they left the main building and headed towards the locker rooms, Syusuke's expression became more pensive. "As difficult as this mission might be for me, I could actually use it for a bit of entertainment, don't you think?"   
  
Kirika arched an eyebrow. "In what way?"   
  
"Well... first I need your cooperation. And as you are technically employed by the Fuji family, you can't refuse an assignment from me, can you?"   
  
"As long as it pertains to the mission," Kirika answered, "it should be fine..."   
  
"Excellent."   
  
Kirika had to admit that she was slightly unnerved by the ensuing maniacal gleam in Syusuke's eye--but at least it wasn't directed at her. Kirika always pitied the poor soul on the receiving end of the infamous Fuji ruthlessness.   
  


* * *

  
"It's been ten minutes, Oishi," Kikumaru complained, idly flipping his racket around his wrist. "Don't you think we should go outside?"   
  
Oishi shook his head, standing firmly in front of the regulars (minus Kaidoh, who had gone for a jog) in the locker room. "No. We wait for Fuji. We have to get to the bottom of this mystery and have a private discussion with him in here. There is no way I can let this team play when it is obviously not operating at full capacity."   
  
"So how much longer do we have to wait, Captain?" Echizen asked, his voice muffled. He was stretched out lazily on a far bench with the back of his head cushioned on his arms and his cap covering his face. "Some of us want to play tennis sometime today, you know. I don't see how Fuji-senpai's personal affairs have anything to do with tennis."   
  
"All right, Vice-Captain," Oishi conceded. "Just five more minutes, then."   
  
Inui pushed his glasses up his nose. "I wonder..." he murmured ominously.   
  
Momoshiro, who was sitting next to Inui, inched away from his frighteningly observant senpai and turned to everyone else with a bright grin. "So... anyone want to play cards? Winner gets the losers to drink his share of Inui-senpai's vegetable juice."   
  
Only a split-second later, all the regulars (except the bewildered Inui) were sitting in a competitive circle on the floor, playing an unusually violent game of Go Fish.   
  


* * *

  
Fuji and Kirika were only a few hundred paces from the tennis courts when Kirika spotted the black-clad figures darting between the trees behind them. The glint of metal in the figures' hands was anything but reassuring.   
  
"They're back," she announced quietly. "Two at five o'clock, one at six."   
  
He wondered what she was talking about until he realized she was giving him clock face directions. Resisting the urge to turn and look, he clenched his fists, growing worried because quite a few freshman tennis players were too close for his peace of mind. If the assassins started shooting from where they were and missed, the freshmen could all too easily get hit.   
  
Fuji gritted his teeth.   
  
Not tennis. Soldats couldn't ruin tennis, and if they did, he swore he would bomb the offices of every Soldats leader he knew, damn the consequences.   
  
Anything but tennis. Anywhere but the courts.   
  
Quickly, Fuji grabbed Kirika's upper arm and steered them both towards the park just beyond the school. The trees would provide good cover, and they could hunt down these assassins without attracting anyone else's attention. Above all, they would stay away from the tennis courts, which, to Fuji, was all that mattered.   
  
As soon as he and Kirika reached the edge of the forest, a shot flew past Fuji's ear, and both teens automatically dove forward into a bush. A second bullet scraped the bark off the tree next to where they landed, but without breaking a sweat, Fuji and Kirika rolled to their feet and continued sprinting deeper into the forest.   
  
"You brought your gun, didn't you?" Fuji asked, unnecessarily, knowing that Kirika's beloved Beretta M1934 could be considered an extension of her body. "Will you kindly shoot back?"   
  
"Of course," she replied, and glancing back at her, Fuji saw that she had already drawn her weapon and was now very calmly screwing on the silencer as she ran. "We should go back to the school. We'll have a much better view from the roof, and I can cover us both enough to get there."   
  
"No, we won't risk anyone else," Fuji shook his head, leading her towards the lake. "I don't suppose you have an extra gun for me, do you?"   
  
She smiled wryly. "You won't get one until you've gone through target practice again, Syusuke-kun," Kirika said coolly, not flinching when their attackers sent a shot that made Fuji wince instinctively. "Handguns were never your specialty."   
  
With that, she tossed him a small knife, and he rolled his eyes even as another shot engraved itself into a tree behind him. "So how do we get them to stop attacking at school? Didn't you say they wouldn't try anything here?"   
  
"I believe these assassins might have been sent to track me as soon as I arrived from Paris," Kirika said as she and Fuji finally stopped and crouched down with their backs against a large tree. The footsteps of their pursuers were coming from somewhere behind them. "I don't believe Soldats would be so stupid as to kill you at school. Your parents did ensure your safety through their wills."   
  
"Their wills? What do you mean?"   
  
She looked startled for a second. "'Nee-san didn't tell you?"   
  
"Apparently, she didn't tell me a lot of things," Fuji grumbled.   
  
"Your parents had an agreement with Soldats just before they were killed," Kirika explained. "If any of the Fuji children died of unnatural causes, all the information they had on Soldats' leaders would be automatically released by an unknown third party to the authorities. That's why you and Yuuta-kun were relatively safe; Soldats assassins could only attempt to kill you through indirect means. Of course, 'Nee-san protected you from such attacks."   
  
Fuji only stared at her, surprised and even more annoyed at his sister. He had never imagined his parents could be so manipulative even after their deaths, but now that he thought about it...   
  
Could they have purposefully *allowed* themselves to be killed in order to secure their children's futures? For the Fuji family, it made a warped kind of sense.   
  
"The point is," Kirika cut into his chilling thoughts, "if Soldats were going to kill you, they would try it at home, where they can make your death look like an accident. That's why I didn't think they'd have a sniper after you."   
  
"Why would they be after *you* at school, then, if they don't want the attention?"   
  
"I'm Yuumura Kirika," she sighed. "They created me. They probably think they can erase me as well."   
  
Another shot grazed the tree they were using as a shield, and Syusuke kept quiet, watching as Kirika at last made her move to fight. With her back to the tree and her eyes closed, she reached around the trunk with her gun in hand and pointed it somewhere behind her. When the assassins missed yet another shot, Kirika smiled, adjusted the angle of her arm ever so slightly upward, and pulled the trigger.   
  
Not too far away, something heavy collided with the ground in a loud crunch, and Fuji's mouth dropped open in disbelief.   
  
She had actually hit a target.   
  
Behind her.   
  
Without looking.   
  
He shook his head in speechless, wide-eyed awe. He remembered that Kirika was the best killer he'd ever met and that her skills far surpassed everyone else's, but he didn't realize how truly incredible she was until that moment. She had actually *improved* on perfection.   
  
After another missed shot from their attackers, Kirika adjusted her aim again and fired, her eyes still closed. The sound of another body falling to the ground reached their ears, proving to Fuji with finality that the first hit hadn't been some miraculous fluke.   
  
"Kirika-chan..." Fuji whispered, unable to repress his amazement. In spite of how wrong it was to kill someone and how much he hated the life he thought he'd left behind, the part of him that remembered the thrill of the underworld was compelled to compliment her. "You're... you're... unbeliev--"  
  
"Something's wrong," she interjected monotonously, and her eyes flew open. "I missed."   
  
A gentle breeze blew past, and the leaves of the trees rustled in the warm afternoon sun, their shadows playfully shifting on the ground like ocean waves. But there was something off about those shadows.   
  
Out of a sixth sense borne of years of training, the two teens immediately looked up the tree they were leaning against, just in time to see a black-clad man leaping down from a low branch, a knife in his bleeding hand. Although Kirika had obviously hit his gun hand only a minute before, he was still determined to complete his mission.   
  
In that instant, Fuji hated Soldats more than ever for breeding such heartless, murderous robots, and he hated that he had actually been one of those heartless, murderous robots.   
  
The assassin let loose a battle cry as he dove at them, but Kirika reacted quickly. She leaped forward, shoving Fuji out of the way with an outstretched arm while twisting in midair to fire the killing shot with her other hand. Her bullet hit the assassin squarely in the chest as he fell, yet in spite of that, he remained persistent.   
  
"KIRIKA!" Fuji shouted, horrified. Time seemed to slow just enough to amplify the gore; the attacker's knife lodged itself triumphantly in Kirika's upper thigh, and a split-second later, the man landed heavily next to Kirika's injured form and tumbled lifelessly aside.   
  
Kirika uttered a small cry and gritted her teeth as she lay on her back, her weapon slipping out of her hand when she reached down to clutch at her injury. Fuji tried not to let the involuntary tears in her eyes and the large blade in her leg bother him, but he couldn't help but feel responsible.   
  
Why hadn't he seen that assassin above them? All he had to do was watch for possible holes in their defenses, and he hadn't even done it right. He needed training.   
  
Damn 'Nee-san for not telling me sooner, he fumed as he bent over Kirika's form and gently shook the young woman's shoulders. "Kirika-chan," he whispered. "Are you all right?"   
  
Through clenched teeth, she answered, "Don't let your guard down. There's one more..."   
  
All right, Fuji thought darkly. I haven't forgotten how to fight. I can take care of the last one.   
  
Deftly, he flipped the knife in his fingers to a throwing position, but before he could move again, Kirika's gun was already in her hand, and she reached over Fuji's shoulders, pulling him flush against her. With his face pressed into her collarbone, Fuji blushed furiously, almost dropping his knife.   
  
"Don't move," she ordered. "We're hidden well enough in the grass."   
  
When she fired, he didn't even feel the gun recoil, and a heartbeat later, the third and final assassin collapsed against a tree a short distance away, having caught a bullet in his temple just as he was reloading his weapon.   
  
Kirika never even had to reload hers.   
  
Abruptly, Fuji realized that there was, in fact, simple logic in his sister's seemingly illogical decision to hire Kirika, and that logic nullified every argument he could possibly create against her.   
  
Simply put, Fuji Yumiko had called Kirika back to Japan because regardless of the girl's history, regardless of her personality, and regardless of how the Fujis felt about her, Yuumura Kirika was, without a shadow of a doubt, the ultimate assassin.   
  


* * *

  
Kaidoh Kaoru had always been very private whenever it came to his personal life. He knew he wasn't one of the best-looking guys, like Tezuka-senpai, whose perpetually swooning fanclub had almost committed ritual suicide when he left for New York. In addition, Kaidoh didn't delude himself into thinking he was perfect husband material, like Oishi-senpai, whose devotion to his girlfriend sickened the rest of the male population and made the members of the now-disbanded Oishi fanclub sigh longingly each time Oishi strode past. Kaidoh also didn't fancy himself as the most fun, most approachable person, like Kikumaru-senpai, who had no shortage of "friends who were girls" and had a new girl hanging off his arm each month.   
  
In spite of his perceived shortcomings, Kaidoh at least knew he was more honest and caring than that stupid, loud-mouthed, uncivilized Momoshiro. Kaidoh also liked to think that he was as gallant towards women (foreign, distant objects that they were) as Fuji-senpai, who treated members of the fairer sex with utmost respect.   
  
But therein lay a problem.   
  
Given what the tennis team had witnessed at lunch, just how wonderful *was* Fuji-senpai, really?   
  
Kaidoh had long admired him for being a widely adored school figure who abstained from women, though he was famous enough to have a fanclub like Tezuka, Oishi, and Echizen. Kaidoh had always assumed Fuji-senpai never dated because he was so focused on tennis, and there was nothing Kaidoh admired more than single-minded determination.   
  
Maybe Fuji-senpai's image was just too good to be true, Kaidoh concluded sadly as he jogged around the tennis courts. Well, at least what the team had seen at lunch completely invalidated rumors circulating last year about Fuji-senpai being involved with both his younger brother *and* Tezuka-senpai. Kaidoh couldn't suppress a shudder at the memory, followed immediately by an overwhelming urge to throw up.   
  
He shook his head.   
  
In truth, everyone only *thought* they knew Fuji-senpai, believing he was the friendly neighborhood tennis prodigy, but even though Kaidoh looked up to him, he had also never trusted people who smiled all the time. No one could possibly keep up a smile for that long without hurting their cheeks; one would have to be inhuman. Those contrasting feelings of respect and suspicion made Kaidoh's head spin, so as much as Kaidoh admired Fuji-senpai, part of him was glad to know that Fuji-senpai was not the perfect prodigy that everyone believed him to be.   
  
Kaidoh sighed as he passed the locker room again on his ninth lap around the courts. The other regulars hadn't emerged yet, probably still debating about Fuji-senpai's relationship with the new girl, so Kaidoh was glad he had escaped the locker room early enough to avoid the embarrassing theories floating around. Unfortunately, the non-regulars milling about outside were starting to look worried, especially since Ryuzaki-sensei seemed to have neglected to show up. Kaidoh sighed again. As the only regular who was thinking rationally, he would have to take responsibility.   
  
One more lap, he decided, and I'll go in and fetch the others.   
  
Instead of turning left to go around the tennis courts, however, Kaidoh turned right into the park behind the school for a change of scenery; responsibility could afford to wait a bit longer. Kaidoh liked nature in general, and cute animals in particular, and that was the side of him he wouldn't dare show anyone lest his tough, manly, anti-social reputation be shattered. Besides, that stupid Momoshiro would probably make fun of him if he knew his weakness for fluffy woodland creatures.   
  
Kaidoh glowered, thoughts of his rival fueling his drive to become a better athlete. That clown Momoshiro couldn't run five laps without running out of breath. Kaidoh, on the other hand, prided himself on having the endurance of a marathon runner, so he decided to go an extra kilometer around the lake.   
  
Really, responsibility could wait.   
  
He would show that obnoxious, hot-tempered, talent-deficient buffoon who was the better player at the next ranking tournament. He'd make sure Ryuzaki-sensei placed them in the same block this time... At that point, Kaidoh's thoughts degenerated into various imagined scenes involving him crushing Momoshiro in straight sets. Of course, all the scenes also somehow involved Momoshiro wailing like a baby while Kaidoh towered over him, laughing. Kaidoh smiled blissfully.   
  
Halfway around the lake, however, his concentration broke when he heard unusual noises coming from somewhere in the forest. Slowing his pace, Kaidoh peered through the foliage suspiciously until he was startled to a halt by someone's faint gasp.   
  
A woman in distress?   
  
Kaidoh hissed. He was actually quite a chivalrous man (if only women would stop running from him, he lamented, blushing vehemently), so his knight-in-shining-armor instincts came alive in an instant. Cautiously, he edged towards where he thought this damsel in distress must be, his senses on high alert, his muscles ready to lash out at the evildoer who would dare harm a lady. As he drew perilously closer to the trees, he heard the woman gasp again. Kaidoh hesitated, but then stopped in his tracks because the woman's gasping was followed by a very familiar male voice speaking in a low, concerned tone.   
  
"Gomen," Fuji-senpai's silky tenor came clearly from behind the trees, and Kaidoh froze. "Did I hurt you? Should I stop?"   
  
"Iie..." came the female's equally gentle response. "I was just... surprised. It's just that... I didn't realize it was so big... and it's in deep."   
  
Fuji-senpai's chuckle lilted through the trees like a happy tune. Kaidoh was reminded of a certain nursery rhyme children sang--which happened to be about the Black Plague. Kaidoh turned green.   
  
"Gomen," Fuji-senpai spoke again. "As much as I'm enjoying your suffering, this is my fault. Should I pull it out slowly?"   
  
"I'll be fine," the woman insisted, and Kaidoh finally recognized who Fuji-senpai was talking to. "Just do it all at once."   
  
It was that... that...   
  
Yuumura-senpai.   
  
Kaidoh stumbled backwards, wide-eyed and choking for air.   
  
It was Yuumura-senpai. And Fuji-senpai. Alone. In the woods.   
  
"This will hurt for a few seconds," Fuji-senpai murmured apologetically, "but I promise it will feel much better in no time."   
  
Kaidoh swallowed hard, his mind spiraling into horrified panic. No no no no no no no... Fuji-senpai... he wouldn't... not Fuji-senpai...   
  
"I trust I'll be able to walk again after this, Syusuke-kun," Yuumura-senpai said breathily.   
  
"Of course. I never disappoint."   
  
The thin thread of hope keeping Fuji-senpai's image together in Kaidoh's mind snapped, and Kaidoh was suddenly no longer sweating because of his run. He was suddenly no longer interested in hearing more of this obviously VERY private conversation because if he heard any more, his ears would bleed.   
  
Unable to contain himself, Kaidoh screamed.   
  
"IYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!"   
  
The Viper executed a perfect, 180-degree pivot and fled, traumatized, mortified, befuddled, frightened, tongue-tied, and blushing something terrible. He was yelling all the way on his record-smashing sprint to the locker room.   
  


* * *

  
"...YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA..."  
  
Fuji looked up from his task of wrapping Kirika's wound with his torn shirt sleeve. Her leg wasn't a pretty sight, as he had just pulled out the offending blade embedded in the flesh of her right thigh. Still, he noticed Kirika opening her eyes against the pain, struck by curiosity and paranoia as well, because the frighteningly inhuman shriek echoing through the woods was loud enough to shatter eardrums.   
  
"What *is* that?" Kirika asked, tensing as she surveyed their surroundings for more assassins.   
  
"I don't know," Fuji answered, rising to his feet and frowning in the direction of the scream. "It sounded close..."   
  
"But it seems as if it's drifting farther away, towards the tennis courts, perhaps," Kirika remarked, and indeed she was right. The anguished cry was fading.   
  
"Well then," Fuji smiled, visibly relaxing and crouching back down next to her, "I wouldn't be too surprised if that was the dying call of one of the freshmen tasting Inui's Super Special Deluxe Original Juice Remix Mach 7. Have I told you about Inui's vegetable juice, Kirika-chan?"   
  
Kirika actually beamed slightly, despite the pain of her wound. "I did some research before coming to Japan, Syusuke-kun. I know Inui-san's recipes, and I've tried them myself."   
  
"Really?" Fuji's eyes lit up even as he bandaged her leg. "So don't you agree that they're quite delicious?"   
  
"Mireille was hospitalized for two days," Kirika replied. "She refused to speak to me for a week."   
  
"Hm. I wonder why," Fuji mused absently. "Did you say something mean to her?"   
  
Kirika shrugged. "Maybe."   
  
"Well, if you make those vegetable drinks for me every day, I'll forgive you for intruding on my home."   
  
Kirika's smile grew. Did she even have to think about the offer?   
  
"Deal."   
  
  
  
-= End Chapter Three =-   
  
  
Chapter Started: July 22, 2003   
Chapter Finished: August 1, 2003   
  
In the Next Chapter:   
- Kaidoh reports.   
- Yuuta finds out.   
- Kirika tracks.   
- Syusuke trains.   
  
  
Please, please review and/or send all comments (however bad, good, long, or short) to me at rune_dreaming@yahoo.com! Your feedback is very much appreciated!   
  
Copyright (C) 2003 by Dark Rune. All rights reserved. 


	4. Elevator Down

Disclaimer, ratings, and other legal junk may be perused in the first chapter.   
  
Reviewers: I'm very grateful to everyone who reviewed and everyone who keeps reviewing. I really appreciate hearing your comments, and as I've said to a few of you before, I'm amazed that so many people actually gave this crossover a chance. Once again, thank you for reading!   
  
Author's Notes:   
I'm trying to keep the chapters short (for my standards, that is), but there's so much I want to write that the chapters keep getting longer. ^_^;; Oh well. I hope it's worth it. Enjoy!   
  
~ Dark Rune   
  
  
  
-= Level Four: Elevator Down =-   
  
  
Echizen, whose senses had always been top-notch, was the first to hear something amiss. He stood, ignoring the rest of his teammates who were still arguing about whether or not Momoshiro did, in fact, lie to poor Kawamura about not having any aces in his hand. Of course, Oishi had to step in as the peacemaker, so he put off Echizen's alarming behavior until after he pried Momoshiro out of Kikumaru's choke hold.   
  
After restraining the still-shouting Kikumaru, Oishi put his fingers to his mouth and whistled, and the shrill noise instantly silenced the other tennis players.   
  
"Is something wrong, Echizen?" Oishi asked, releasing Kikumaru and rising to his feet. From their position on the floor, the rest of the regulars looked up at him, then at Echizen, bewildered.   
  
"Do you hear that?" Echizen asked seriously, pulling his cap lower over his face.   
  
Oishi frowned. Within a few seconds, the sound grew more audible, and fear struck the hearts of the tennis players as the animalistic shriek grew louder and louder; whatever was making the horrible noise was drawing near. Finally, when the scream was almost too loud to bear, the regulars scrambled to their feet.   
  
"What *is* that?" Momoshiro whispered, his racket already in Dunk Smash position. No one needed to answer.   
  
The locker room door swung open, slamming violently against the wall and causing the shelves to shudder and pieces of the ceiling tiles to rain on the startled tennis players.   
  
"AAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!" shrieked Kaidoh Kaoru, sweating, red-faced, and breathing heavily, as he burst into the room, his beady eyes wide and unmistakably full of fear.   
  
"KAIDOH!?" the team shouted in unified disbelief as Kaidoh stumbled dazedly into their midst. He swayed for a moment, almost as if he was playing a tennis game, but he was shivering.   
  
"F-F-F-F-F-F-..." he stammered, obviously numb with shock. He fell forward.   
  
Oishi, being the alert and perpetually worried mother hen of the group, reacted first, catching Kaidoh before the younger man could hit the floor, and in the next instant, everyone had crowded around the traumatized Viper. Each tennis player was worried and secretly fearing what it was that had reduced the notoriously badass Kaidoh to a sputtering, white-faced mass of jelly.   
  
"Oi, Snake," Momoshiro nudged his rival in the shoulder, looking more concerned than he had ever been in his life. "What's the matter with you?"   
  
Kaidoh was quaking in Oishi's arms. "F-F-F-F-F-..."  
  
"Give him some air," Oishi commanded as he laid Kaidoh down on the floor, and the other regulars practically leaped a half-step backwards at the captain's order. "Momoshiro, get some water."   
  
"Hai," Momoshiro saluted, and he would have fetched the closest water bottle if Inui hadn't stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.   
  
"No. This method will be 134% more effective in revitalizing an unfocused mind," Inui mumbled seriously, holding up a bottle with a familiar, foreboding piece of paper taped to it. "It instantaneously activates the human body's basest survival instincts."   
  
Momoshiro grinned broadly. "I trust your data," he said with glee, and he accepted the bottle containing Inui's latest concoction. The other regulars gasped.   
  
"S-s-surely you..." Kawamura stuttered. "You can't be serious..."   
  
"We're trying to revive him, not kill him!" Kikumaru added worriedly.   
  
Although Inui's juice was not a punishment he wished to inflict on anyone, Oishi decided it was necessary in Kaidoh's case. "Good thinking," Oishi praised, grabbing the bottle from Momoshiro, whose face fell when he realized he wouldn't be the one to poison his immobilized rival. Oishi took a deep breath and turned back to the fallen tennis player. "All right, Kaidoh. You'd better get up or face the consequences. This is Inui's Super Special Deluxe Juice Remix Mach 5--"  
  
"Seven," coughed Inui.   
  
"--Mach 7," Oishi corrected, chills running down his spine, "and if you don't get up on your own, I'm afraid you'll have to suffer."   
  
Kaidoh remained frozen, wide eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. Oishi cringed guiltily as he put the bottle to Kaidoh's lips, and everyone, except Inui, flinched and turned away, unable to witness the horrifying scene. Even Momoshiro looked queasy.   
  
"Forgive me," Oishi murmured, closing his eyes. Around him, the other tennis regulars prayed silently to whatever deities they worshipped. Forcing someone innocent to drink Inui's vegetable juice was vile. It was unforgivable. It was detestable. And it worked like a charm.   
  
As soon as the liquid flowed from the bottle, Kaidoh screamed horrifically again, but there was a reassuring measure of awareness in his eyes as he gasped for water. Kawamura, who had been prepared for Kaidoh's reaction, tossed the flailing man a bottle of water, and Kaidoh gratefully chugged its contents.   
  
"You're going to be all right," Oishi said, sighing as he patted Kaidoh on the back. "Just drink, and take a deep breath, and tell us what happened."   
  
Kaidoh carelessly flung the water bottle away, breathing hard and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, then he looked up and hissed at Oishi.   
  
"I've never heard anyone scream like that before," Momoshiro taunted half-heartedly. "You wanna tell us what happened, Viper?"   
  
Kaidoh leaned forward, burying his beet-red face in his arms. "Iie."   
  
Oishi sighed again. "It's all right if you don't want to talk about it now. We can discuss this after Fuji gets here."   
  
"Iie!" Kaidoh repeated more fervently.   
  
Oishi frowned, noticing that the back of Kaidoh's neck got even redder at the mention of Fuji's name. How odd...   
  
"Kaidoh," Oishi began thoughtfully, "something happened to you while you were running, and I think it might have something to do with Fuji. Is that right?"   
  
Kaidoh's face was practically glowing at this point, so it was obvious that Oishi's guess was on the mark.   
  
"Will you tell us where he is, Kaidoh-senpai?" Echizen interrupted, and his laid-back self-confidence made his question sound more like an order than a request. "He's holding up practice."   
  
"I..." Kaidoh swallowed hard. "I don't think Fuji-senpai will show up for practice today."   
  
"Why not?" Oishi inquired.   
  
"Because," Kaidoh spoke with difficulty, "I saw him in the woods."   
  
"We'll just send one of the freshmen to get him, then," Kikumaru said cheerily, and he was about to leave when Kaidoh flew to his feet and grabbed Kikumaru by the collar, much to everyone's astonishment.   
  
"IYAAA!!!" Kaidoh cried, jerking Kikumaru backwards by his shirt. "DON'T DO IT!!! They'll be TAINTED! For the love of all that is GOOD and HOLY, SPARE THE INNOCENTS!"   
  
"Calm down!" Oishi pulled Kaidoh off his partner, and Kikumaru gasped for air as he leaned against a wall, trembling. "Kaidoh, what, exactly, did you see?"   
  
"I... I saw nothing," Kaidoh answered, red-faced and shaking just as badly as Kikumaru, when Oishi let him go. "I just... heard..." He hesitated, swallowing hard again.   
  
"Heard what?" everyone urged.   
  
Kaidoh took a deep breath. "Fuji-senpai was with Yuumura-senpai, and they seemed to be... enjoying each other's company... in the woods. I didn't see anything, but... I heard them talking about... well..." Kaidoh blushed.   
  
"About?" Echizen insisted, not noticing that everyone else had pretty much guessed what Kaidoh had stumbled upon, and that everyone else was promptly turning greenish red.   
  
Kaidoh bravely tried to finish his tale in a rush. "They were talking about the size of his--"  
  
"Don't SAY it! We get the point!" Oishi yelled abruptly, leading the others in a group tackle aimed to clamp Kaidoh's mouth shut. Unfortunately, Kaidoh, even though he was Kaidoh, crumpled under the weight of all the tennis players who had jumped him, making Oishi regret their rash actions. Everyone would be REALLY sore today, if the players' anguished groaning and contagious inability to move were any indication.   
  
Echizen merely stood where he was, clueless, and he looked up at Inui, the only regular who had not sacrificed his dignity by tackling Kaidoh like a barbarian.   
  
"They didn't let him finish his sentence," Echizen stated blandly. "What's with everyone today? So what if Fuji-senpai is talking to a girl?"   
  
Inui was furiously scrawling some obscure notes and oddly misshapen diagrams in a book clearly marked 'Fuji's Indiscretions #1', but he spoke to Echizen mid-scribble anyway. "The chance of Fuji showing up to practice has just plummeted to a record low of 0.00002%. The likelihood that he will continue to come to practice this week has also reached a record low of 4.7%."  
  
"What makes you think that?" Echizen asked, looking confused as to how anyone could miss tennis practice without a good reason--like paralysis or death. Inui merely stopped writing and fixed his ominous gaze at Echizen for a minute.   
  
"What?" the vice-captain frowned, staring back at Inui.   
  
"Knowing your father's fixation on women, a latent characteristic which you most likely inherited," Inui muttered, "if you get around to doing with Ryuzaki Sakuno what Fuji is doing with Yuumura, you would quit tennis for approximately 34 days."   
  
"What are you talking about? I'm nothing like... like..." Echizen abruptly stiffened, his eyes widening in belated understanding. "I... I'm... I'm going out for some fresh air. I'll be back."   
  
Then, after carefully stepping over the pile of his semi-conscious senpais, Echizen strode out of the locker room, blushing hotly.   
  


* * *

  
  
After Inui untangled the mess of tennis players simply by unscrewing the cap off a bottle of Penal-Tea(TM), the team was so jumpy that Oishi could *feel* everyone's charged emotions cackling in the stale locker room air. It was an unfamiliar sensation, because except for the time everyone thought Tezuka might be dating someone (which turned out to be a horrible, horrible misunderstanding involving Fuji's sister, several parts of a fried chicken, and Inui's abysmal phone service), the team had never been so tense. Of course, the situation now was decidedly worse because Fuji seemed to be doing... unspeakable... things... with the new girl.   
  
Oishi shook his head. It simply boggled the mind.   
  
Normally, Oishi would not have intruded in anyone's personal business, but the mental state of the team was at stake. As the captain, Oishi was responsible for keeping everyone healthy, both physically and mentally, and the traumatizing image of a bad Fuji would be too much to handle.   
  
What would Tezuka do? Oishi wondered. How could Seigaku possibly win Nationals now, knowing that their current number one singles player was... well...   
  
"Still missing, huh?" Echizen's voice cut through the thick silence, and all the regulars sitting in the locker room looked up in surprise as the vice-captain returned. "Oishi-senpai, it's irresponsible to hold up practice just for one player. Regardless of who he is, the rest of the team can't afford to wait," Echizen stated coolly. "The non-regulars were just standing around outside so I made them run a hundred laps. Ryuzaki-sensei isn't here yet either so we really need to move. *Now*."  
  
Sometimes, Echizen's uncanny likeness to Tezuka still blindsided Oishi. If he wanted Tezuka's opinion, he really never needed to look further than the youngest regular on the team. Oishi smiled ruefully. "Echizen... You're right. Fuji probably won't come to practice today, so there's no point in waiting." He turned back to the other regulars with newfound determination. "All right, everyone! Let's go."   
  
Silence.   
  
"Let's GO," Oishi repeated more firmly, and the regulars began to move, sluggishly, still in varying states of distress. As the tennis players trudged out of the locker room, Oishi hung back until he and Inui were the only ones remaining. "Please tell me you've got a plan," Oishi pleaded, when everyone was safely out of earshot.   
  
Inui merely closed his latest notebook and hummed in his soothing baritone voice, "I'm afraid this situation has escalated far too quickly above my expectations. There is only one plan that we can put in motion."   
  
Oishi gasped. "Y-you mean... but... do we *have* to? There must be some other way..."   
  
"I'm afraid it has come down to this," Inui spoke, pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose in a frighteningly calm manner. "We must implement Seigaku Tennis Club's Secret Contingency Plan Zeta: Code Orange."   
  
Oishi swallowed hard, his spine tingling. "A videophone conference with Tezuka?"   
  
"My house. Eight o'clock. Be there."   
  
Oishi grimaced. But at the very least, it wasn't Code Red.   
  
Yet.   
  


* * *

  
  
"Well, I guess I'll have to miss tennis practice today," Syusuke said, smiling with his eyes closed.   
  
Kirika shrugged. "Gomen. I know how much you wanted to play."   
  
"It's no problem," he shook his head, offering his arm to support her as they started walking back towards the courts to retrieve their bags. "Properly treating your injury at home is more important than playing a game."   
  
Clutching his upper left arm, Kirika limped forward at Syusuke's laid-back pace, but she avoided looking at his face. He obviously didn't mean what he said; she could tell that he would rather be playing tennis than babysitting her. "Gomen," she whispered again, wincing at the sharp pain lancing through her leg.   
  
The only positive thing about killing Soldats assassins was that Soldats always cleaned up after themselves. In the time she'd been fighting them, Kirika had never needed to cover her deadly trail because Soldats took great pains to hide their existence from the general public. In a few hours, the assassins' dead bodies would probably be gone and the forest swept clean of all traces of the gunfight.   
  
But their secrecy also made it difficult to track the Soldats leaders down. Kirika had never actually met any of them in person since her orders came through her computer. The Fuji family was the highest ranking family she knew in Soldats, and that was only because they had been her mission. The old men in power still remained nameless and faceless to her, so she wondered how much information Syusuke had been privy to before the Fuji family's rebellion.   
  
In truth, the attacks today disturbed Kirika. She had expected Soldats to spy on Syusuke, of course, and she had expected Soldats to try to kill her long before she arrived at school, so the assassination attempts did not quite follow impeccable Soldats logic.   
  
Could 'Nee-san have done something drastic in Kyoto already? Kirika wondered. Could Soldats have found the person who held the evidence the Fujis had against Soldats? Once the evidence-keeper was eliminated, Soldats would no longer need to keep their distance from Syusuke. Those were the only logical reasons for the attacks today; nothing else made sense because Syusuke had been safe from overt attacks before Kirika's arrival. Kirika's new relation to Syusuke, if anything, should have piqued Soldats' curiosity just as 'Nee-san had planned, instead of prompting such blatant attacks.   
  
"You should give 'Nee-san a call when we get home," Kirika said, as the two of them walked next to the lake.   
  
Syusuke smiled. "Of course. She owes me an explanation."   
  
"I doubt she'll reveal her plans to you, but she might have a few theories of her own about what's going on here," Kirika murmured, stumbling when more pain shot through her leg like a lightning bolt, and she leaned against Syusuke as much as she dared.   
  
He didn't seem to mind her dependence on him, but he didn't show concern for her predicament either. "You mean you're not entirely sure about what's going on?"   
  
"These attacks feel strange," she replied honestly. "If assassins keep coming after today, Soldats must be truly worried about something other than the Fuji family. 'Nee-san has only been gone a day, so she couldn't possibly have breached their defenses so critically already."   
  
"It's almost as if this wasn't Soldats' doing," Syusuke said lightly. "Perhaps a jealous female student hired some people to kill you, Kirika-chan."   
  
Kirika glanced up at him, stunned. "Syusuke-kun..."   
  
He brushed off her seriousness with a smile. "Anyway, wasn't that a lovely stroll, Yuumura-chan? I'm sorry you had to trip over that log. My negligence caused your injury."   
  
"I... It's all right, Fuji-kun," she smiled weakly, hearing the change in his tone and understanding that they were close enough to the tennis courts to be overheard by a stray freshman. They would have to save this discussion for later; Syusuke looked as if he wished to avoid talking about Soldats altogether.   
  
They found their belongings in the bushes where they had dropped them, and, without a word, Syusuke shouldered both their bags, surprising Kirika. She had forgotten how Syusuke liked performing random chivalrous acts like that. As they walked away from the courts, Syusuke dug into his bag and pulled out his cell phone, and Kirika didn't bother to ask who he was calling because his end of the conversation said it all.   
  
"Hello," Syusuke began with perfected cheerfulness, "this is Fuji... Oh? You're still in your office? Well... Yes, practice started a half hour ago..."   
  
Kirika looked away in disgust. Syusuke was so good at deceiving others that his lines flowed without thought. He really knew how to sell his lies: start with the appropriate level of surprise, inject the proper amount of false sympathy here, place a pause for maximum effect there, and top off the story with guilt-ridden apologies for flavoring. Next to swordplay, deception had been Syusuke's deadliest art, and it had been the true source of his strength in Soldats. Kirika remembered how he had tried to teach her to act, but she just couldn't understand the complexities of human behavior back then. She still didn't understand human nature now, but Syusuke had mastered his craft years ago.   
  
"I don't know," Syusuke continued lying happily into his phone, oblivious to Kirika's discomfort. "Yuumura-chan sprained her ankle so I can't make it today... No... I'm taking her home right now... Is that... Yes. Thank you very much... I will... Goodbye."   
  
When he hung up, Kirika bit her bottom lip as they walked out the high school gates. Syusuke's ability to lie honestly irritated her. She needed to trust him until the end of the mission, but it was difficult to have faith in an accomplished actor whose actions often contradicted his words. As uncomfortable as she was next to him, however, she had to lean on him. The Fuji mansion was only a few blocks from the school, so it would take them only a few minutes to get there, but those few minutes were torture on her injured leg.   
  
As they walked in contemplative silence, Kirika felt Syusuke becoming tenser. Every few seconds, she looked up at him, forgetting her own pain out of curiosity as to why his smile grew more strained with each passing minute--almost as if he didn't want to go home.   
  
He must be dreading walking home like this every day for three weeks, Kirika thought when they stopped at last in front of the Fuji residence. After all, the peace he'd enjoyed in the last five years would most certainly be ruined.   
  
"I take it you've already moved your belongings into your old room," Syusuke said as he entered the code to open the mansion's gates.   
  
Kirika blinked at him, surprised that he would want to make small talk. Limping up the driveway, she answered cautiously, "Yes, but I didn't bring much. You don't have to worry about cleaning up after I'm gone."   
  
Syusuke shot her a strange look before he inserted the key into the front door and unlocked it. As soon as they entered the house and he shut the door, he dropped the bags on the carpeted floor, coldly unlatching Kirika from his arm as they slipped off their shoes. Wordlessly, he stormed towards the living room to pick up the cordless telephone receiver there. "Kirika-chan," he said, his back to her as he dialed, "you know where the first aid kit is. Go ahead and treat yourself. I need to talk to my sister."   
  
Kirika nodded, wishing that he would at least turn and spare her a glance. She lingered in the doorway connecting the living room to the study, watching him and willing him to acknowledge her existence, but he remained still, facing away from her.   
  
She felt absurdly hollow. As she went inside the study to get the first aid kit, she shook her head, furious at herself for expecting so much from him so early in this strange partnership. She really shouldn't have expected anything at all. Everything was an act with Syusuke, and no matter how kind he appeared to her sometimes, no matter what good deeds he performed for her, she couldn't afford to forget that he was always acting. Besides, even though she was giving her life to him, she shouldn't expect kindness or pity in return. When all was said and done, Syusuke was still a Fuji, and ruthlessness still flowed in his blood.   
  
He was as unforgiving as he had ever been.   
  
With the kit in her hands, Kirika sat in an armchair in the study, silently observing Syusuke's tense back while tearing opening the necessary medical supplies. Syusuke's voice was low, but its edge was razor sharp, his accusations and fury strongly directed at Yumiko. 'Nee-san seemed to be holding her ground in the discussion, however, judging from the way Syusuke's voice shook and intensified with ever-increasing impatience.   
  
As she undid the bandages on her leg and replaced them with clean ones, Kirika realized that she missed Mireille very, very dearly. Perhaps Mireille had spoiled her with too much kindness over the past year, but Kirika had forgotten how difficult life was without a sympathetic soul to lean on. When Kirika was done patching herself up, she escaped upstairs to her room to change into casual clothing, and when she came back down, she ducked into the dining room to give Syusuke more privacy. Fifteen minutes later, his arguments ceased, and a tense minute after that, Syusuke finally strode into the dining room, noticeably red-faced and forcing a smile even as he removed his school uniform jacket.   
  
"What did 'Nee-san say?" Kirika inquired, hesitantly meeting his gaze.   
  
His smile was bitter. "Nothing you didn't already tell me."   
  
"Did she expect the assassination attempts on you today and simply neglect to warn us?"   
  
Syusuke's smile withered. "No. As you said, 'Nee-san believed spies would be sent after me, but she didn't expect Soldats to make the first move against us. She thinks something went wrong somewhere else, and Soldats might be panicking as a result."   
  
Kirika frowned. Yumiko-nee's opinion was not something to be taken lightly. "Does she have any idea about what that 'something else' might be?   
  
Syusuke sighed, folding his arms in front of Kirika, who was leaning against the spotless dining table. "She didn't know. But she wanted you to consider the possibility that someone else might be behind these attacks. It could be a more daring Soldats leader 'Nee-san didn't know about."   
  
"That doesn't give us much to work with, does it?" Kirika said, worried. "What else did she tell you?"   
  
"Absolutely nothing about Kyoto," he admitted. "I'm beginning to think that 'Nee-san is as gleefully sadistic towards me as I am towards Yuuta..."   
  
Knowing Yumiko's manipulative tendencies, and knowing Syusuke's aversion to being manipulated, Kirika carefully refrained from agreeing with his statement.   
  
"Speaking of Yuuta..." His cheerful mask returned when he glanced out the window. "Did you know he had a ridiculously huge crush on you, Kirika-chan?" he asked nonchalantly as he relaxed against the dining table next to her.   
  
"Oh... he did?" Kirika stared, flushing. "But... what does that have to do with anything?"   
  
Syusuke kept smiling as he turned to her. "Among other things, 'Nee-san manipulated Yuuta into visiting home today, telling him there was a surprise waiting."   
  
"Really?" Kirika frowned, as Syusuke seemed to lean even closer to her. "When will he get here?"   
  
Syusuke's smile widened. "Don't look, but he's already here. He's actually watching us just outside the window."   
  
Pinned by his steely gaze, Kirika couldn't turn around. "Why don't we go greet him, then?" she suggested awkwardly, shifting to leave, but Syusuke quickly pivoted and stood in front of her, trapping her against the table. He leaned forward, his arms positioned on either side of her, his body scant centimeters away from hers and moving closer. She resisted the urge to break his neck, gripping the edge of the table with her hands to prevent them from doing any instinctive damage to her client. "What are you doing, Syusuke-kun?"   
  
His eyes opened. From this distance, Kirika couldn't miss the mischief dancing in his cobalt gaze, but then she saw a spark of seriousness underneath his humor.   
  
"Have you ever kissed anyone before, Kirika-chan?" he asked, his voice low and soothing, his tone trivial.   
  
Her eyes widened. "E-excuse me?"   
  
"I asked if you've ever kissed anyone before," he repeated patiently.   
  
She found herself answering with the truth in spite of her embarrassment. "N-no."   
  
"I haven't either," he confessed amiably. "We should practice then, don't you think?"   
  
She froze. "What?"   
  
"We should practice," he repeated, his voice laced with the kind of patronizing patience reserved for imbeciles. "Kissing, I mean."   
  
Unable to find an intelligent response to convey her shock, Kirika uttered one word. "Why?"   
  
"We're betrothed, and people are going to expect this kind of behavior from us," Syusuke explained, his smile becoming less kind and much more cruel. "We need to be convincing. We can't be caught off guard not knowing these things."   
  
"But... I was..." Kirika stopped talking, realizing that she had no right to tell Syusuke anything. She couldn't tell him that she wanted to do this only with the right man, someone who could see into her soul and accept it completely, broken as it was, without disgust or fear or hatred. But what was the likelihood that she would find someone like that in the remaining weeks of her life?   
  
Besides, her personal feelings had no business here. Syusuke was her employer. He owned her soul and would decide her fate, and he could do whatever he damn well pleased.   
  
"For the good of the mission, let's see if we can convince Yuuta, ne?" Syusuke said happily, and with that, he leaned down and captured her lips brutally with his.   
  
Losing herself in the kiss, Kirika managed not to cry.   
  


* * *

  
  
Sixteen-year-old Fuji Yuuta scowled. It was his habit to scowl at anything and anyone family-related, because as far as he could remember, his family always seemed to enjoy making him suffer, especially his annoying older brother. Often, before his parents had died, Yuuta had felt out of place in his family, but while he had the distinct impression that everyone treated him differently, he wasn't entirely sure how. Syusuke and Yumiko had only changed their attitudes after the car accident that had claimed their parents' lives, and even then, they still treated him as if he were some sheltered baby.   
  
Yuuta fumed. He was only younger than Syusuke by a year, so why the hell did they treat Syusuke with more respect?   
  
It *had* to be that damned talent of his. Syusuke was just more talented, more dedicated, more studious, more polite, and pretty much better at every other damn thing, including school, including sports, including getting along with people, including... ugh.   
  
Damn it all.   
  
His freaky brother was *perfect*.  
  
Yuuta scowled as he got off the bus only a few blocks from the house. 'Nee-san had dropped by St. Rudolph that morning and practically ordered him to visit Syusuke today, because she was leaving early for Kyoto and she thought Yuuta needed to spend quality time with his brother. Of course, quality time with ManipulativeBastard!Syusuke wouldn't have convinced Yuuta to go within a kilometer of the mansion, so 'Nee-san had mentioned something about a surprise. Eventually, Yuuta's curiosity won over his loathing of Syusuke, but Yuuta didn't plan to stay very long in the presence of the perfect prodigy. For all Yuuta cared, Syusuke could have the entire house to himself during the next three weeks and wreck it, as long as the older Fuji brother stayed the hell away from Yuuta.   
  
Aniki's a lucky bastard though, Yuuta thought grudgingly. The dorms at St. Rudolph weren't tiny, but compared to the cavernous Fuji mansion, Yuuta's room at school was a coffin. He growled, shoving his hands in his pockets as he arrived at the house gates. Yuuta mechanically punched in the security code and went inside, all the while grumbling about the injustice that was his life, but he ground to a halt as he stood in the driveway. The windows were, strangely enough, open, and he could actually see into the dining room. What he saw lifted his spirits tremendously.   
  
"Yuumura-san!" Yuuta cried, a happy smile spreading across his face when he spied the young woman's familiar face. About six years ago, Yuumura-san, the daughter of some family friends, had lived in the Fuji mansion as an exchange student from a junior high school in Kyoto. Yuuta had grown close to the shy girl, and Yuuta liked her a lot. As far as he could understand, she was only shy around him because she liked him back and was too modest to admit it in front of his family. At any rate, Yuumura-san was the only person close enough to be considered family whom Yuuta did not intensely dislike at some point in his lifetime, so, overjoyed, he rushed to open the front door, casting excited glances through the window.   
  
Then something else happened.   
  
Yuuta's smile vanished.   
  
His older brother now entered the dining room, grinning as usual, and he leaned against the table next to Yuumura-san. For a few moments, Syusuke and Yuumura-san seemed to be talking seriously about something, which worried Yuuta beyond reason.   
  
What the hell is going on? Yuuta thought, ignoring the front door completely in his fascination with the events unfolding in the dining room. Why isn't Aniki at tennis practice?   
  
Yuumura-san looked as if she was about to move away, but then in the blink of an eye, Syusuke was in front of her, blocking her way out, standing much too close for Yuuta's peace of mind. Syusuke said something, and then he leaned forward... forward...   
  
He was...   
  
He...   
  
"Aniki... you *bastard*!"  
  
Yuuta's heart almost stopped, and his eyes widened in rage and in despair as Syusuke leaned down and kissed Yuumura-san. Yuuta clenched his fists, his face red, and he watched in horror as the kiss continued, showing no signs of ending any time soon. Unable to control himself, Yuuta finally flung open the front door and barged into the house with the chilling intent to kill.   
  
That BASTARD! That annoying, smiling, manipulative BASTARD! Syusuke KNEW how much Yuuta liked Yumuura-san! Why did HE always get everything to go HIS way? Yuumura-san was YUUTA'S territory!   
  
DAMN SYUSUKE!   
  
HE WAS DOING IT ON PURPOSE! That stupid older brother of his was kissing Yuumura-san out of spite! Syusuke must have KNOWN he was visiting today, and he must have skipped tennis practice just so he could make his move on Yuumura-san first! He KNEW Yuumura-san was the love of Yuuta's life! HOW *DARE* HE!!!   
  
Slamming the front door behind him, Yuuta stomped towards the dining room but froze in the doorway when he saw two faces staring at him in surprise.   
  
"Yuuta!" Syusuke smiled at him, opening his eyes, but he didn't move from his obviously comfortable position draped over Yuumura-san. "I didn't know you were home."   
  
"Yuuta-kun," Kirika greeted with a blush, and Yuuta's face fell, his hopes shattering in an instant.   
  
No... She actually... she actually looked happy. Was she happy to be with his stupid aniki? What if... what if she actually liked him!?   
  
All of Yuuta's hopes were dashed the moment Syusuke and Yuumura-san pulled further apart but kept their hands linked. He groaned inwardly; there was no more reason to doubt the legitimacy of their relationship if they were already at the hand-holding stage.   
  
Damn his stupid brother...   
  
"Y-Yuumura-san, welcome back," Yuuta greeted miserably, unclenching his fists, his shoulders drooping even as his brother and Yuumura-san both gave him hugs. He returned their embraces weakly.   
  
"We have big news," Syusuke announced, his smile much more genuine than anything Yuuta could even imagine at this point.   
  
"What is it?" Yuuta croaked, eyeing their linked hands with extreme disgust and discomfort. "Are you staying very long, Yuumura-san? I'd... I'd like to spend time with you... I can move back here and commute to St. Rudolph..."   
  
Yuumura-san's serene gaze bestowed upon his own unworthy face nearly made Yuuta melt with bitter joy. "I think it would be best if Syusuke-kun explains the situation," Yuumura-san said in her soft, gentle voice.   
  
"And that is?" Yuuta smiled at her, then glowered at his older brother, then directed his affection back at her again. Hopefully she would notice his undying love for her and dump his stupid brother. Hopefully.   
  
"We're engaged," grinned Syusuke, pulling the blushing Yuumura-san easily into a warm hug.   
  
Kill me. Kill me now, Yuuta thought, horrified.   
  
For a full minute, Yuuta stared dumbly at his older brother and the beloved Yuumura-san, his jaw hanging open and his eyes glazed with grief. It wasn't that he wanted to appear stupid in front of the girl of his dreams; it was just that most activity in his brain had ceased.   
  
Neither Syusuke nor Yuumura-san feigned surprise when Yuuta finally passed out.   
  


* * *

  
  
"He's gotten heavy," Syusuke commented, carelessly dumping Yuuta's unconscious form on the longest couch.   
  
Kirika watched her 'fiance' with an emotionless expression. "He's taller than you now," she observed.   
  
Syusuke beamed. "Yes, he is, isn't he? But only by a few centimeters. I'm not *that* short."   
  
Kirika folded her arms across her chest, trying not to let Syusuke know how shaken she was from the show they had put on for Yuuta. Syusuke's revenge against her was cruel. He knew her well enough to understand how relationships mattered to her, how sacred and fleeting displays of emotion were to her. He knew her well enough to defile the things she deemed most precious.   
  
He made her sick.   
  
"I'm surprised at how well our act worked," Syusuke grinned, shooting her a pleased look that was nowhere near genuine. "Yuuta's a bit gullible, though, so I think we need to practice even more in order to deceive truly observant people like Inui, ne, Kirika-chan?"   
  
She shrugged, turning away from him and staring out the window.   
  
"Kirika-chan, I asked you a question," he stated in a level tone, but she could hear his smile, and it clashed with the coldness of his words. "Answer me."   
  
"Yes," she replied dutifully, her fingers digging into her upper arms with a viciousness she wished she could direct at Syusuke. "I think I'll go outside for a while."   
  
"Yuuta will probably be asleep for a while, so go ahead," Syusuke said, sitting comfortably on an armchair adjacent to the couch, and Kirika glared at him before stalking out the door.   
  
She knew she shouldn't wander off the premises because her client and his brother would be vulnerable if she strayed too far, but she desperately needed to get away. Kirika justified her leaving the house by looking around for suspicious people on the street. She always vented her frustrations by making herself useful, whether it was through painting or protecting someone, and this was as good an opportunity as any.   
  
Kirika walked quietly down the driveway and stopped next to the front gates, where she leaned casually against the wall and glanced outside over her shoulder. From her vantage point just within the mansion walls, there was virtually no one in sight, but Soldats assassins knew better than to hang around in broad daylight. They would be hiding in the trees, or somewhere concealed high above the ground, in places where people wouldn't normally look. Kirika frowned when she spotted a black sedan parked a short distance away across the street, containing what appeared to be two people deep in conversation.   
  
Surely they can't be Soldats, Kirika thought before stepping away from the gates, slipping into the shadows offered by the trees. She needed to find out who those men were, fast. Her decision made, Kirika took off running swiftly along the mansion's perimeter, one hand against the stone wall surrounding the residence to steady herself.   
  
Perhaps those men were Yuuta's bodyguards. Although they seemed careless sitting out in the open, they certainly looked the part.   
  
As soon as she judged she was a safe distance from the car, Kirika scaled the wall next to a tree and perched herself on a low branch extending over the wall. She reached for her gun tucked into the back of her jeans, all the while observing the car from behind. Those men were really far too obvious to be professional, but their car, which was known to be used often by Soldats, drew suspicion, especially parked so close to the Fuji residence.   
  
Maybe I'm being paranoid, she thought. Maybe I'm too worked up over what Syusuke did.   
  
Kirika flushed at the memory. At this point, she didn't know what to think. When she'd accepted the mission, she had expected to put up an act, but she didn't think they'd go as far as kissing--not that Syusuke was a bad kisser or anything.   
  
Kirika's face grew even warmer. Of course, how would she know anything about that? How could *he*?   
  
The powerful urge to just strangle Syusuke returned, and she shook her head. Thinking about killing her current employer really wasn't helping. As the minutes passed, Kirika grew impatient and fidgety, and her uncomfortable feelings about Syusuke increased her annoyance even more. She had a bad feeling about the car, and usually her hunches proved correct. Unfortunately, in one unexpected move, Syusuke had pounded her confidence into the ground, made her question her judgments. How could she protect him if he pulled any more embarrassing stunts like that?   
  
Kirika was about to go for a closer look at the car when she saw Syusuke emerge from the house, a smile on his face as he strolled down the path to the front gates. Kirika automatically ducked back amongst the leaves. He had changed into casual clothes, and with his hands shoved into his pockets, Syusuke ambled on outside, heading leisurely towards the parked car. Even from that distance, however, Kirika noticed the strain in his smile; he was definitely not out for fun. In fact...   
  
Kirika's eyes widened when she spotted the unnatural bulge under Syusuke's shirt.   
  
A weapon?   
  
Her heart now racing, Kirika leaped down from the tree and dashed towards the gate, completely ignoring the injury she was aggravating in her leg. She had to stop Syusuke. He wasn't ready for a fight, and if those men in the car were assassins, they would have teammates in the surrounding area. Syusuke *knew* that basic rule. What was wrong with him? Those men in the car could run over him, and that would be just the accident Soldats was looking for to get rid of the Fuji threat forever.   
  
Kirika tried not to panic when she reached the front gates and ran out on the sidewalk. Syusuke was crossing the street now, coming much too close to the car for Kirika's comfort.   
  
She had to stop him. If she had to make herself a target, then so be it.   
  
"Syusuke-kun!" she shouted, in a tone that she hoped sounded sort of like a wife sweetly calling out to her husband.   
  
Standing in the middle of the quiet street, Syusuke turned, surprise and something disconcertingly close to anger in his features. "Kirika-chan," he responded with a rehearsed smile. "Is something wrong?"   
  
"Will you help me with something in the kitchen?" she asked innocently, yet even as she spoke, she was frantically scanning the area for possible hiding places for more assassins. Syusuke wouldn't know what hit him if the assassins were ordered to ignore the Fuji will and start shooting. Kirika paled when she saw the two men in the car staring at Syusuke strangely.   
  
Syusuke started walking back, and although he was smiling, his open eyes held contrasting emotions. "Kirika-chan," he said softly, just as he reached her side. His hand gripped her upper arm in a swift move that caught Kirika off guard, eliciting a pained gasp from her. His smile showed no remorse. "What do you think you're doing out--"  
  
Syusuke never finished his sentence.   
  
In the next instant, the car exploded.   
  
  
  
-= End Chapter Four =-   
  
  
  
Chapter Started: August 3, 2003   
Chapter Finished: September 2, 2003   
  
About the Dark Side:   
Fuji's defining moment for me [minor spoilers ahead] was in the practice episode in which Inui decided that the last to cross the finish line would drink his Super Deluxe Whatever Juice. As the regulars raced around the courts, someone (Kikumaru?) pointed out that if Fuji liked Inui's special mix, why was he trying so hard? To this, Fuji replied, "I like to see people suffer even more."   
  
After my mad-happy screaming like a deluded fangirl, my brain latched on to the potential of Fuji's dark side. That scene, as well as Fuji's match against St. Rudolph, prove to me that Evil!Fuji could be just as canon as Manipulative!Fuji. ^_^   
  
Anyway, please keep in mind that this story will get somewhat darker in the future. I hope you keep reading!   
  
(Tentatively) In the Next Chapter:   
- Captains' conference.   
- Kirika's new enemy.   
- Syusuke's assassin training.   
- Yuuta's misfortunes.   
- Echizen's observations.   
  
Please, please review and/or send comments (however bad, good, long, or short) to me at rune_dreaming@yahoo.com! Your feedback is very much appreciated!   
  
Copyright (C) 2003 by Dark Rune. All rights reserved. 


	5. Alarms

Disclaimer and all other legal junk can be found in the first chapter.   
  
Author's Notes:   
*sighs* All right. I've learned my lesson. I'm never going to set publish dates because I end up missing them by about a month. I'm very sorry. My only defense is this: EE major. ~_~;;   
  
On a more positive note, I finished writing this chapter thanks to the side-splitting, insanity-laden, artificially-induced sugar high that was TeniMyu. GO WATCH IT! Thanks to the PoT musical, although "You Got Game" was never one of my favorite songs, it now holds a soft spot in my heart--right next to Kimeru. ^_^   
  
Reviewers:   
Aeris - Please either leave your e-mail on your next review (that is, if you review again) or e-mail me directly. I try to reply to all reviewers, but I'd like to personally congratulate you. ^_^   
  
Everyone – Thank you very much for your consistently intelligent feedback. You continue to amaze me with your thoughtful and supportive responses. I can never say this enough, but thank you once again!   
  
And now... Chapter 5!   
  
Enjoy!   
  
~ Dark Rune   
  
  
  
-= Level Five: Alarms =-   
  
  
It started with the phone ringing.   
  
"Moshi moshi?"   
  
Followed by low, taunting words.   
  
"Fuji! How wonderful to hear your voice once more."   
  
Suspicion.   
  
"Who is this?"   
  
And it ended with a condescending challenge.   
  
"A friendly neighbor. I just wanted to let you know that two men in black are sitting in a car across your street, watching your house. Yuuta-kun's bodyguards were easy prey for them, so it wouldn't surprise me if Yuuta-kun himself were to have an unfortunate accident..."   
  
A burst of fury.   
  
"You bastard! If you try to hurt Yuuta, I swear--"   
  
A chuckle.   
  
"Two minutes."   
  
The dial tone, then silence.   
  


* * *

  
  
In his mind's eye, he could picture himself concealing his weapon, walking out into the street, then glaring at Kirika for standing in his way. He remembered the explosion, and he distinctly remembered how the explosion had triggered an instinctive urge to protect Kirika. The thought sickened him.   
  
Fuji Syusuke gritted his teeth as he lay on the street, but when he tried to prop himself up on his elbows, he found that he couldn't. Upon opening his eyes, he saw Kirika kneeling next to him, worriedly scanning him for injuries, one hand on his chest holding him down and the other clutching her gun. The fiery skeleton of the car crackled a short distance behind her, while columns of smoke and sharp fumes tainted the once peaceful neighborhood now littered with metallic debris.   
  
"Don't move so much," Kirika said softly, the car in flames a starkly appropriate background for her disheveled form. "You might be hurt."   
  
"It doesn't matter," he muttered, shoving her hand away irritably as he sat up. "Was I unconscious for long?"   
  
She shook her head, standing when he rose to his feet, and replied, "No. You were out for less than a minute."   
  
"Then we can still find the one who did this. I won't let the bastard get away with terrorizing my family," he glowered, automatically reaching for the gun he had tucked into the back of his pants, only to discover that it was no longer there. He scowled further. "Kirika, give me back my gun."   
  
"No," she said, and to his amazement, she actually smirked. He didn't know if he wanted to slap her or be awed that she could find humor in the situation. "In your state, you're more liable to hit an innocent bystander than Soldats."   
  
"And how do you expect me to protect myself without a weapon?"   
  
"If you're rash enough to walk out into the open and make yourself a target, you're obviously not ready to defend anything," she answered. With that, she firmly grasped his arm and marched him back towards his house.   
  
"Kirika, what are you--?"   
  
"Stay inside. You'll be safer there," she insisted, and before he could resist, she had jabbed her gun into his arm. "Please don't make me shoot you, Syusuke-kun. This is for your own good."   
  
He smiled menacingly at her even as she directed him through the front door. "You'll pay for this, Kirika-chan."   
  
"I don't care," she sighed, and for the first time, he noticed the almost defeated weariness in her gaze. "You need to clean yourself up, stay with Yuuta, and feign ignorance about the explosion when he wakes up. I'll scout around, but I won't go very far. For Yuuta's sake and yours, please don't make yourself a target again."   
  
She shut the door and disappeared before he could even blink. With a growl of frustration, Syusuke smashed his fist into the nearest wall, outraged, disgusted, indignant--and furiously ashamed of his uselessness.   
  


* * *

  
  
She didn't tell Syusuke that she had spotted the man responsible for the explosion standing calmly on a neighboring rooftop, because she knew that Syusuke would have started shooting like a maniac with no prior training. She, on the other hand, had more sense than to go charging after the suspect, especially when they currently needed information more than revenge. Would Soldats really blow up its own men just to get to Syusuke? What exactly did they expect to accomplish with such a daring act?   
  
Before she left, Yumiko had told Kirika that she and Syusuke were supposed to distract Soldats by visiting suspicious places and meeting with suspicious people. Kirika had planned to have them visit all of the Fuji family's old Soldats connections, but they couldn't do that if Soldats was intent on just carelessly finishing Syusuke--or her, Kirika realized belatedly--off. In any case, they needed to find out what was going on before they could move forward with their mission.   
  
Ignoring the pain in her leg, Kirika climbed up the wall surrounding the mansion, trying to remain as stealthy as possible, but to her surprise, the man didn't try to run away even when he saw her. Instead, he turned to her, unhurried by the blaring sirens in the distance or the curious neighbors emerging from their quiet houses. The man's arms remained folded casually across his chest, and a lazy smile played on his lips. He appeared to be in his early twenties, maybe even younger, and he was strikingly tall, with a lean, athletic build underneath his slightly rumpled blue suit. He tilted his head as he looked at her with intensely maniacal, glinting eyes, his wild platinum hair sticking out in all directions. Kirika knew instantly that this man was not just another Soldats killer, and the spark in his eyes convinced her that he might actually enjoy killing for sport. She recognized his frenzied hunger, the raw energy waiting to tear through the surface of his calm exterior, and a surge of pity and disgust overcame Kirika when she realized that this man was worse than even Syusuke in his darkest moments.   
  
"What are you doing here, little girl?" he leered.   
  
"Who are you?" she demanded, ignoring the feeling of *wrongness* emanating strongly from him.   
  
He stared at her with narrowed eyes for a few seconds before finally flashing her a fanged grin. "You're the infamous bodyguard? I almost didn't recognize you," he sneered. "You're so small I could probably snap you in half."   
  
"You're welcome to try."   
  
He stared at her for another moment, as if trying to gauge how serious her challenge was. Then, in spite of the police sirens growing continuously louder in the background, he grinned. "Maybe later... I like the idea of crushing your spirit, but I'm not supposed to do anything to you just yet."   
  
"I'll only ask you nicely one more time before I start shooting," she said coolly. "Who are you?"   
  
"Ask your Fuji," he smirked. "Right now, I'm here to deliver a message, from my employer to yours."   
  
Kirika frowned. The sirens were so close now that she almost didn't hear his next words.   
  
"Tell Fuji to watch his back, especially since we don't actually give a damn what Soldats thinks," he said, his attitude still lazy, yet harboring a dangerous undercurrent of alertness.   
  
Kirika raised an eyebrow. "You're not working for Soldats?"   
  
The man snorted derisively. "That's not important. What's important is this: you try to protect your boss--if you can," he smiled, the challenge clear in his eyes. "Anyway, as you can see, those incompetent cops are here. I'm sure they'll dismiss this as an accident, but they *will* interrogate your family. You might want to go home, fast."   
  
He moved to leave, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of turning his back on her. Kirika drew her gun on him, but as she did, he instantly trained his own gun at her, bringing them to an instant, deadly standstill. "Don't go yet," she said quietly, her stance firm. "I still have questions."   
  
"You're in no position to give me orders," he snarled through his predatory smile, his grip on his weapon tight. "You should drop your gun, unless you want the police to catch us shooting at each other on the roof. I have other men in the area, and they will pick off your beloved Fuji if you shoot me. Since I really don't give a shit about my orders, I promise you that Fuji *will* get hurt once you're out of the way."   
  
Kirika hesitated, her arm faltering.   
  
The man's smile widened tremendously. "Struck a nerve?"   
  
Confident that she wouldn't dare fire, he stuffed his gun back into his shoulder holster and waved at Kirika. "Next time, we'll have a real battle. No long-range weapons. Just hand to hand combat. I've been bored lately, and I heard you're talented at all forms of killing. I've been itching to try you."   
  
Kirika lowered her gun arm. "You won't last very long," she promised coldly.   
  
"Actually, I *will* get the satisfaction of seeing how far your body bends," he chuckled, and Kirika couldn't help but feel the revulsion shooting down her spine. "Until then, *Yuumura-chan*."   
  
Bizarre smoothness graced his strange, almost animalistic movements as he leapt away, and Kirika shuddered at the sight.   
  


* * *

  
  
She was glad to find that Yuuta had slept right through the explosion; news of her engagement to Syusuke was apparently more potent for Yuuta than the most powerful anesthetic known to modern medicine. When Yuuta regained consciousness late that afternoon, fire fighters had put out the flames, and the police's official explanation of the explosion involved some ridiculous story about a drunk driver and loose power lines. The police had interrogated the entire neighborhood, including her and Syusuke, but everyone pleaded ignorance, so, thanks to the good Soldats puppets within the police department, the authorities had downplayed the incident to avoid major media coverage.   
  
Now while Kirika generally liked Yuuta, by the time they had finished eating dinner, she wanted to tie the young man up, duct tape his mouth, and toss him into a dark broom closet. She had a horrible feeling that Syusuke was probably thinking along those same lines, but really, who could blame them? Yuuta absolutely *refused* to shut up about the explosion, and his incessant chatter was grating on both their nerves. Granted, the explosion was probably the most interesting thing that had ever happened anywhere near him, so his naive excitement was only natural. Ironically, if he had known that he was directly linked to that "accident," he probably would have panicked and started blaming Syusuke.   
  
All afternoon and throughout dinner (which Yuuta eagerly volunteered to help make with Kirika), he constantly tailed Kirika and hovered over her shoulder, especially whenever Syusuke was in the same room. Kirika knew Yuuta hated the idea of her and Syusuke together, so it wasn't surprising that he would try to keep them apart for as long as he could stand. Unfortunately, Yuuta's ubiquitous presence prevented Kirika from discussing what she had discovered, as the police interrogations had taken up the better part of the afternoon before Yuuta woke up. From the look on Syusuke's face, Kirika could tell he was getting impatient just waiting to find out what she had to share. By sunset, Syusuke, even through his smile, was visibly tempted to either throw Yuuta out of the house or render him unconscious, whichever was easier, but it wasn't until the three of them were standing around the kitchen counter after dinner that Syusuke first put his plan in motion.   
  
"Kirika-chan, Yuuta, since we're all here, why don't we have a celebration?" Syusuke said, smiling cheerfully.   
  
"What do you mean, a celebration?" Yuuta shot him a suspicious glare.   
  
"Let's go out for karaoke tonight," Syusuke suggested. "But before that, we need to have a toast for having you both home. Kirika-chan, will you get the drinks? I'll get the glasses."   
  
He caught her eye, and Kirika, understanding his intentions immediately, stifled the conspiratorial smirk that threatened to spill across her face when she set the glasses on the counter.   
  
"Iced tea, Yuuta?" Syusuke grinned and poured the drink into Yuuta's glass without waiting for Yuuta's consent.   
  
Yuuta reddened. "Hey, wait a second! I hate--"   
  
"It's Kirika-chan's favorite brand," Syusuke smiled as he filled her glass, and Yuuta promptly shut up. "I, however, will have Kirika-chan's home-made vegetable juice. No one makes it quite like you, Kirika-chan, so thank you for mixing this *especially* for me."   
  
"You're very welcome," Kirika said, playing along and watching the predictable range of emotions flicker across Yuuta's face. With that, Syusuke reached into the refrigerator, pulled out a tall jug of juice, and poured its contents slowly into his mug, as if savoring the goopy sound of the thick liquid. By the time he finished pouring, he had Yuuta's complete attention--and he knew it.   
  
"What's wrong, Yuuta?" Syusuke asked, as he lifted his glass to his nose and sniffed appreciatively.   
  
"Nothing," the younger brother huffed, trying to disguise the fact that he was eyeing Syusuke's glass like a starved, sensitive puppy salivating pitifully at a steak. Kirika smiled wryly. Now that she thought of it, the puppy analogy was actually quite an apt description of Yuuta's whole life.   
  
Syusuke observed the direction of Yuuta's gaze with interest. "Jealous that your future 'Nee-san made me a special drink?"   
  
Yuuta scowled even more. "I'm NOT jealous of you," he defended, too quickly to be convincing, and moved away from Syusuke. "I was just... curious. That's all."   
  
Syusuke's smile turned evil, but poor Yuuta didn't even notice the shift in his older brother's demeanor. Syusuke probably would have drawn out Yuuta's suffering if Kirika hadn't decided to hurry things along. "Yuuta, don't you like your iced tea?"   
  
"Of course he does, Kirika-chan," Syusuke smiled, clapping his brother on the back. "I just think he's jealous that you made me a drink from scratch while he only got something store-bought. Isn't that right, Yuuta?"   
  
"I said I'm NOT jealous," Yuuta protested, violently shrugging Syusuke's hand away, though his own fingers seemed to be itching to make a grab for Syusuke's drink.   
  
"Do you want your Kirika-nee to fix you a glass, too?" Syusuke went on patronizing his brother with a smile. "This juice is simply marvelous..."   
  
"SHUT UP, *Aniki*. Stop talking to me like I'm a two-year-old!" Yuuta snapped. "If I want to try something Yuumura-san made, I'll ask her myself. And if it's anything Yuumura-san made, OF COURSE it's gonna be fantastic!"   
  
"Fantastic?" Syusuke actually smiled with his teeth showing. "Indeed."   
  
"I said shut up!" Yuuta shot back at last, then he turned to Kirika with pitifully blind affection. "May I please have a glass of whatever he's having, Yuumura-san?"   
  
Though she *was* helping Syusuke, it still pained Kirika to watch Yuuta walk so easily into Syusuke's traps. Yuuta was just so young, so adorably naive. She sighed. "Of course, Yuuta-kun. But I should warn you that it takes an iron constitution to drink this..."   
  
Yuuta grinned broadly. "Don't worry! I'm man enough to drink it!"   
  
Syusuke responded with something that was a cross between a snort and a chuckle, the significance of which was lost on Yuuta.   
  
Kirika shrugged helplessly.   
  
Two minutes later...   
  
"OH MY FREAKIN'--!"   
  
There was a pause as a purple-faced Yuuta wilted pathetically earthward, his limbs twitching spasmodically, his eyeballs rolling, his dignity as a human being decaying--   
  
"Gnnghhh..." he said, rather eloquently for someone afflicted with Inui's Grand Super-Deluxe Whirlwind Mach 5 Fire Remix, and collapsed to the floor. Neither Kirika nor Syusuke spoke for a moment as Syusuke carefully prodded his brother's shoulder with his foot.   
  
"I think he'll be out for a few hours," Syusuke concluded at last, a satisfied smirk on his face. "I was thinking we could remove his clothes, leave him on the kitchen floor, and hire a stripper to come wake him later tonight. I'd love to see his reaction caught on film, wouldn't you?"   
  
Kirika flushed. "Well actually... I think that might be a bit too cruel."   
  
Syusuke only smiled some more. "If you think so, then I'll save that prank for another day."   
  
"You're unnaturally *mean* to him, Syusuke-kun," she observed, as Syusuke knelt next to his brother to check his pulse.   
  
"Yuuta doesn't visit often," Syusuke explained, his attention focused on his brother, "so I have to get a full month's worth of entertainment now. Besides, he wouldn't shut up about the explosion and refused to leave us alone. Serves him right."   
  
"Don't you at least feel sorry for him?"   
  
"Sometimes, maybe," Syusuke shrugged, his expression softening. "But this is my way of showing him how much I care."   
  
She stared at him, confused. "How does this show how much you care?"   
  
Syusuke rose to his full height and met her gaze unflinchingly. "If I didn't care about him, I would ignore him. If I hated him, I would make him suffer a slow, painful death."   
  
His tone gave her the distinct impression that he was talking about her, and she found herself unconsciously stepping back. While there were times when Syusuke treated her almost like a normal person, for the most part, he was either distant or subtly disdainful. She always felt guilty around him, but what really hurt her the most was the way he could make her feel insignificant, as if her opinions, her feelings, and her whole *life* didn't matter--the way he was making her feel now. Kirika turned away, shaken and unable to face the intensity in Syusuke's eyes. Until Mireille, Kirika had never been the recipient of anyone's affection, and until Syusuke, she had never been the object of someone's personal hatred. In that moment, she missed Mireille more than she thought was humanly possible.   
  
"Now, Kirika-chan," Syusuke continued calmly, as if he had just been discussing the weather, "after we move Yuuta to his bedroom, you are going to tell me everything you know."   
  
"Of course, Syusuke-kun," she said, hiding a sudden onslaught of nervousness behind a small smile. Considering what she was about to do to him, she would be very lucky if Syusuke didn't kill her. "Of course."   
  


* * *

  
  
It was Kirika's idea to discuss everything in the basement.   
  
Of course, the Fuji mansion's basement was unique in that it was, first of all, a secret known only to the Fuji family (Yuuta excluded), a select handful of the family's most trusted Soldats associates (secret evidence-keeper included), and Kirika. Either Syusuke's or Kirika's handprints, combined with a security code that Yumiko had given to Kirika, were required to unlock consecutive metal doors hidden behind a bookshelf in the library, and beyond those doors were stairs leading down to the Fuji family underworld.   
  
Everything they had needed as a prominent crime family was in that underground base: private offices, meeting areas, locker rooms, an impressively stocked weapons vault, a target practice section, a gym for close combat training, the affectionately titled War Room for assassination planning, and the infamous Gauntlet, the Fuji family obstacle course. Out of all these, the obstacle course had been the pride of Fuji's father, as he had designed it with the flexibility to simulate nearly every environment imaginable. It had served the family well, since they could practice missions before carrying them out, and Syusuke remembered a time when he loved going through the obstacle course just for the sheer fun of playing "assassin." It had made him feel important.   
  
Now, knowing how much bloodshed the obstacle course represented, Syusuke loathed it. Going through that course always ended in another kill and another unsuspecting family torn apart, and Syusuke had sworn years ago that he wouldn't be a part of that ever again. The Underground, as the Fuji family had named it, had supposedly been sealed after his parents' death, its technology dismantled, and all of its exits blocked, but upon learning about his sister's plan, Syusuke realized that Yumiko must have maintained the facility after all. He wasn't pleased that his sister and brother-in-law had been practicing killing techniques under his nose (literally and figuratively) for the past five years, but he was reluctantly grateful that they had since it meant that Yumiko had kept the Underground's technology updated, the training equipment in order, and the vault stocked.   
  
As he followed Kirika through the main hallway, Syusuke wasn't sure if he felt nostalgic, disgusted, or, as much as he loathed to admit it, *excited* about diving back into the criminal underworld. He wasn't sure he wanted to know, either, because he had the sinking suspicion that he would disappoint himself.   
  
"Where are we going?" Syusuke frowned as they passed the War Room, which would have been the ideal setting for a discussion.   
  
"You'll see," Kirika replied. "We're almost there."   
  
Trusting that she knew what she was doing, Syusuke followed her without question. Moments later, she surprised him by stopping in front of a door that led to neither a meeting room nor an office.   
  
"The locker rooms?" Syusuke blinked incredulously. "We're training *now*?"   
  
"Your locker contains new sets of clothes. 'Nee-san had them made for you before she left. Please change into something comfortable and meet me in the training gym," Kirika said quietly.   
  
She moved to open the door into the women's locker room, but he swiftly grabbed her upper arm, unwilling to let her escape without an explanation. "Kirika-chan, I *know* you found something. If you hide it from me, I swear--"   
  
"I *will* tell you everything," she promised, looking slightly pained, "as soon as you practice unarmed fighting."   
  
His eyes narrowed. "Who do you think you are to order me around?"   
  
"I'm your bodyguard, and I believe this is for your own good," she whispered. Then, with seemingly no effort, she twisted free of his grasp, and before he could figure out exactly what she had done to escape, she was already safe behind the locked door of the women's locker room. Frustrated once more with his increasingly apparent ineptitude, Syusuke released a deep, calming breath and complied with Kirika's wishes.   
  
Maybe this *was* for his own good.   
  


* * *

  
  
Kirika hadn't been exaggerating when she said 'Nee-san had new clothes made for him. Yumiko had ordered an entirely new wardrobe, and he almost couldn't believe the lengths Yumiko had gone through to make sure he was well-equipped. In his locker, which now resembled a closet, Syusuke found sleeveless shirts for light practice, thick, weighted shirts for heavy training, black, padded turtlenecks for night missions, Kevlar-lined, tailored suits for undercover meetings, and, to his ever-growing surprise, Seigaku tennis uniforms, undoubtedly redesigned to protect him in outrageous ways. The mind-boggling selection of pants was no less extensive or impressive, and Yumiko had even added shoes, headgear, and *underwear* to the massive collection.   
  
"Does she expect me to wage war on Soldats?" Syusuke muttered disbelievingly, gaping at one of the labels he found on his clothing. "With fireproof *underwear*?"   
  
He shook his head, perplexed, and changed into a loose, sleeveless black shirt and black sweatpants. As strange as the situation was, however, Syusuke *did* appreciate Yumiko-nee's thoroughness, and maybe someday in the future, he might actually find a use for fireproof boxer shorts. Syusuke smirked at the thought. After putting away his clothes, he closed his locker and, out of habit, glanced briefly at the one next to his, which had belonged to his father. Syusuke froze. He blinked, looked away, then looked back at his father's old locker again to make sure he wasn't seeing things.   
  
The label once bearing his father's name had been removed, and the top of the adjacent locker was now marked with a name that Syusuke never wished to associate with Soldats: Yuuta.   
  
His amusement disappeared.   
  
He was disturbed that Yumiko had accounted for Yuuta because he didn't want his brother involved in this unholy mess, but Syusuke had to concede that including equipment for Yuuta was a necessary precaution. If Yumiko were killed, all deals with Soldats would be off, and Yuuta, whether Syusuke liked it or not, would almost certainly be dragged into the ensuing war. It wasn't a pretty thought; Yuuta was trained in martial arts, like the rest of the family, but he didn't know the first thing about fighting professional killers.   
  
Shaken by that possibility, Syusuke left the locker room and strode briskly to the gym. He hoped it would never come down to Yuuta discovering the family secrets, but if the worst happened to Yumiko, Syusuke vowed to protect his brother at all costs. Yuuta wouldn't be able to handle the shock and the pressure if he ever found out about the family's involvement with Soldats.   
  
Syusuke opened the door to the gym and was comforted to find that everything was exactly as he remembered. The high ceiling, bright lights, soft blue mats covering the floor, mirrors lining the walls, and even the equipment storage room brought back memories of the endless hours he had spent training here. To his growing dismay, a part of him actually *missed* those days, and as much as he tried to shove the nostalgic feelings aside, Syusuke couldn't help it. Soldats had taken so much of his childhood that he had little else to remember.   
  
As he stepped into the gym, however, the sight of Kirika reminded him that Soldats had been depriving children of normalcy for centuries. It wasn't anything personal. In truth, Kirika probably had a worse time than he had because her family had no power in Soldats; she had simply been taken as an infant, given a new name, and forced into a criminal life. Unlike Syusuke, who had been pampered like royalty, Kirika had been tossed around like garbage, her existence dictated by a foolish prophecy that would ultimately never be fulfilled. Syusuke smiled grimly, feeling an unexpected surge of pity for Kirika and quickly suppressing it. Now was not the time to start feeling sorry for her.   
  
Kirika was sitting in the middle of the gym floor, her legs folded beneath her, her eyes closed in concentration. She had changed into a white tank top and white shorts, revealing the bandage wrapped around the injury on her thigh, and she was barefoot. Out of respect for tradition and cleanliness, Syusuke also removed his socks and shoes before approaching her on the mats.   
  
"Kirika, why don't you start this practice session by telling me what you found out?" he asked, feeling unusually compassionate towards her.   
  
She opened her eyes and looked up at him. "Actually, we're having a match, first."   
  
Her bluntness surprised him. "What?"   
  
"It's really very simple: if you can completely immobilize me, using any of the fighting techniques you still know, I'll tell you everything," she said, rising to her feet. Though she had a slender build and he topped her by several centimeters, Syusuke knew better than to underestimate her strength, even in her injured state.   
  
"My patience is wearing thin, Kirika-chan," he said, not wanting to fight her for the information. "I'm ordering you to report everything you found out."   
  
"If you really want to know, you'll fight," she replied, calmly dismissing his demands. "So fight."   
  
As tempted as he was to vent his frustrations on her, he was not in the mood to play her ridiculous game. "We don't have time for this, Kirika-chan. Just tell me what's going on. We need a plan for tomorrow."   
  
She didn't even bat an eyelash. "Once again, because this knowledge is so critical, and time is obviously of the essence, I recommend that you win against me before Yuuta wakes up."   
  
"Damn it, Kirika! This is NOT a game. Why are you doing this?" he snapped, his hands now clenched into fists. If there was anything Syusuke hated, it was being manipulated, and Kirika was doing exactly that.   
  
NO ONE did that to him and got away with it.   
  
"I'm trying to prove a point," she said stoically. "And you're right. This isn't a game, so what are you waiting for?"   
  
He let his breath out in a hiss. "Kirika-chan, don't tempt me."   
  
"I already set the conditions--"   
  
"You have no RIGHT to set conditions--"   
  
"--and you're not mature enough to decide anything."   
  
His smile turned feral. She actually had the gall to insult him and challenge him when *her* life was in his hands? Perhaps she was suicidal. "I warned you that you would pay for your actions this afternoon. I'll give you one last chance to tell me everything without a fight, because you *know* this isn't going to be just a practice fight."   
  
"Of course," she replied, looking squarely into his eyes.   
  
"You'll regret it when you have to go to school with makeup on, Kirika-chan," he warned, dropping into a fighting stance.   
  
She only smiled serenely, following his lead and moving into a more defensive position. "Actually, I think *you* will."   
  
That did it.   
  
Syusuke lunged at her with a wild, lightning-fast punch, but she smoothly sidestepped his attack, grabbing his wrist as he passed, and deftly flipped him to the floor. Surprised by her speed, his thoughts a jumbled mess of tennis moves and half-remembered fighting techniques, Syusuke crashed to the floor. He only realized he had been lying on his back too long when, in the next moment, Kirika was on the floor as well, capturing his outstretched right arm with her legs in a basic arm bar designed to break his elbow. Knowing that he couldn't escape, Kirika slowly applied pressure to his arm until he couldn't stand it. He gave in, tapping her leg in a universal sign of surrender, and she instantly released him.   
  
"I win that round. Care to try again?" she asked quietly, standing. "And please don't insult your true capabilities with such amateur attacks."   
  
He stood as well, rubbing his right arm and trying not to show his irritation. Of course she was right; that direct punch had been horribly naive of him. "Fine. I'll attack seriously this time."   
  
He moved back into his fighting stance, as she stepped into hers, and before she could say anything, he unleashed a furious combination of punches and kicks, executing every devastating move he could remember in a continuous string, no holds barred. The experience was surreal, giving him freedom he hadn't felt in five years, and he *liked* it. He felt like a whirlwind, a powerful, unstoppable force, advancing on Kirika with every strike and forcing her backwards with every movement. Somehow, in this one-sided barrage of attacks, Syusuke found himself having *fun*, and he almost smiled... until he realized that something was very wrong.   
  
Kirika was smiling. As she ducked and dodged and blocked and parried every blow he sent her way, she was smiling, and it took him a few seconds to see why. No matter how technically perfect and skillful his moves were, *not one of them* was connecting. Kirika was gracefully deflecting or evading his every move, as if this was some kind of a mindless ballet, and, to make the situation even worse for him, she had yet to counterattack. He was pushing her back with everything he had, but she wasn't even trying to retaliate.   
  
In short, she was *playing* with him.   
  
He stopped, thoroughly annoyed and breathing heavily from all the exertion. To his chagrin, while he was already covered in sweat, Kirika appeared about as fresh as when he first attacked--definitely a bad sign. Did she improve that much over the years, or was he really just that bad now? Syusuke grimaced inwardly. Since it was probably a combination of both factors, he needed a new strategy. If standing fighting wasn't working, then maybe ground fighting would. As far as he could remember, he had always been the better grappler of the two of them, so all he needed to do now was to force her to the ground.   
  
"Is that all you have?" she grinned, her body poised in her deceptively relaxed fighting stance.   
  
He returned her smile, then charged forward again. He faked a left jab and quickly segued his movements into a spinning back kick. That should have caught Kirika in the temple, but without missing a beat, Kirika caught his leg mid-kick, spun it aside in the direction of his momentum, and rammed her foot into the bend of his right knee, automatically forcing him to falter to the ground. Unwilling to concede, Syusuke swept his left leg around as he fell, successfully tripping her, but his victorious smirk vanished when Kirika easily commando rolled to a kneeling position.   
  
Then, before he could blink, she launched herself forward, straight at him.   
  
That was the first time Kirika had initiated an attack, and the change in her aggressiveness shocked him. She slammed into him with her right forearm digging into his throat, and as he landed solidly on his back, he could only be thankful that Kirika had purposefully refrained from smashing her elbow into his forehead. Syusuke coughed violently as Kirika sat on his stomach, her legs on either side of his torso, her forearm still jammed under his chin. She watched idly as he coughed even more beneath her.   
  
"*This* is the point I'm trying to make."   
  
"What point? That it hurts when you cut off people's breathing?" he coughed, and she eased her arm slightly off his throat to let him breathe.   
  
"No," she sighed. "The lesson is simple. You wanted to know what I found out this afternoon, but the only way you could know is by defeating me. Obviously, you can't defeat me because you're not at that level yet," she told him gravely. "The point is, regardless of how badly you want something, if you're not prepared, then it doesn't matter how hard you fight or how much that something means to you. You *will* lose."   
  
"I already know that," he retorted, his breath still coming in pained gasps.   
  
"You certainly don't act as if you do," she countered. "This afternoon, Syusuke-kun. Going out into the open when enemies were present was one of the most reckless things you've ever done. Do you have ANY idea how much it frightened me to see you standing there, *completely* vulnerable? The Syusuke I knew years ago would have had enough sense NOT to--"   
  
"They threatened Yuuta."   
  
For a moment, Kirika couldn't speak, and her eyes widened. "What?"   
  
"When you left, someone called and told me about the men in the car. Apparently, they killed Yuuta's bodyguards. Then the caller threatened Yuuta, and I snapped," Syusuke sighed, resting his head on the floor. "I know it's no excuse, but... 'Nee-san and I already lost so much because of Soldats. We're willing to let all those things go, but Yuuta is where we both draw the line."   
  
His confession had the right effect on Kirika. When she spoke, he could hear the sympathy in her voice. "Then for Yuuta's sake, don't be suicidal, Syusuke-kun. You're nowhere near the level you once were, and you can't afford to--"   
  
He didn't give her a chance to finish her sentence. A split-second was all he took to grip her right arm with his hand and pull her further down, while his left arm snaked around her neck to keep her head securely against his chest. Twisting his body and pushing up and sideways with his hips, Syusuke quickly flipped both of them over. Kirika landed with her back on the mats, utterly surprised, and he knelt between her legs, already moving in position to trap her.   
  
Unfortunately, victory for Syusuke was short-lived. Wincing, Kirika lifted her injured leg up and braced her shin against his stomach, then grasped his right arm and pulled him to her. He lost his balance and reached out with his free arm to keep from falling, but she grabbed him around his neck, scissored her legs, and deftly flipped them over on the mats again, bringing them right back where they started--Syusuke on his back, the wind knocked out of him, and Kirika sitting on his stomach, smiling smugly down at him as she pressed her arm into his throat.   
  
For a minute, neither of them spoke, content to just let their heart rates slow back down to normal. Syusuke spoke first.   
  
"Well... *that* was an exercise in futility," he groaned, as she settled her weight on his stomach more fully. At least he had the satisfaction of getting her out of breath. A few minutes ago, she didn't even look as if she was trying, and that had hurt Syusuke's ego more than he cared to admit.   
  
"*That* was a nasty trick," she said reprimandingly. "You attacked while I was speaking."   
  
"You never said we couldn't play dirty," he replied, gazing up at her. "Even so, I couldn't surprise you for longer than a second."   
  
"Gomen, Syusuke-kun," she smirked, her voice low, "but as you can see, I like to stay on top."   
  
And that was the moment everything changed.   
  
Something about the intimacy of her voice, the unintentional innuendo in her words, the warmth of her body...   
  
Through the growing haze in his mind, Syusuke suddenly saw Kirika in a completely different, entirely flattering light, and he felt something akin to dread when he finally noticed the direction his thoughts were taking.   
  
Kirika seemed to realize what she had said, and she blushed, modestly looking away. She was such a strange paradox of innocence and guilt, of light and darkness... a kindred spirit. In a lot of ways, Kirika was just like Syusuke.   
  
Familiar heat flared inside him, and like wildfire, it spread throughout his body. As she shifted uncomfortably on his stomach, panic signals started going off in his brain, very belatedly telling him that, yes, there was indeed a woman on top of him, and that yes, this woman on top of him was triggering a very large hormonal imbalance, so would he PLEASE, for the love of sanity, do SOMETHING about her? And even though his brain knew he was supposed to loathe this particular woman on top of him, his body didn't give a damn thankyouverymuch because his stupid brain had never indulged his body in situations like this one before.   
  
The internal conflict made Syusuke want to scream and vomit at the same time. He had never been so acutely aware of any woman, especially one that he didn't like, until this very moment, and suddenly the fight leading up to this point seemed jarringly inappropriate. Now he was aware of absolutely *everything* about Kirika--the searing heat from her body, the sheen of sweat on her skin, the redness of her flushed cheeks, the way her chest heaved up and down as she breathed, the fullness of her lips, the *memory* of how those lips had felt against his, and the fact that this would be considered--to borrow one of Kikumaru's creative terms--a Hopelessly Compromising Position.   
  
He had been so obsessed with his grudge against her that he had forgotten how to be a human being around her, and now that he *was* reacting the way a full-blooded male would, Syusuke was at a loss. He had never been in such a situation, and nothing had ever embarrassed him before. As a skilled manipulator, he could tease people about risque matters, but he had never experienced anything remotely close to it firsthand.   
  
This wasn't for the female population's lack of trying, either; he'd been asked out routinely by countless girls, many of them doting members of his unofficial fanclub. Even a few guys had mustered enough courage to ask him out, but Syusuke had never felt any attraction towards *anyone*. No one knew who he really was, and he could tell, just by the naive adoration in their eyes, that none of them would understand the truth.   
  
Kirika, on the other hand... Kirika had lived in the same hell as he had and suffered just as much, if not more. She already knew what he had been through, and she understood his need to keep his real life separate from this hell. Was that why he felt something for her? Syusuke groaned inwardly--he was more messed up than he thought if he was physically attracted to his parents' murderer.   
  
"Syusuke-kun?" Kirika whispered his name softly, the concern evident in her gaze. "Are you all right?"   
  
She shifted against him again, and he bit his lip viciously, his face burning, trying to keep from shouting at Kirika to just STOP MOVING.   
  
But there was no denying it. He really *was* screwed up beyond belief. He'd been wrestling with this deadly woman for the past five minutes, and the adrenaline rush from their fighting had rendered him blissfully unaware of her until now. Yes, he'd kissed Kirika before, but that was purely meant to rile both her and Yuuta. For the most part, it had worked splendidly, and it really wasn't his fault that he'd begun to enjoy that moment too.   
  
"Do you surrender?" she asked at last, leaning forward to press her forearm even more against his throat. He instinctively clutched her arm to prevent her from damaging his wind pipe, but that forced him to look up and notice how distractingly close her face was to his. If he just tilted his head up...   
  
*STOP IT!* he berated himself before his thoughts strayed too far. He was furious with himself, furious with his hormones, and he seriously *had* to get out of this predicament. He needed to get the hell out of it *now*, before he drove himself mad.   
  
Forget pride.   
  
"Yes, I surrender," he said, his usual smile plastered on. Acting under pressure was difficult. "Yes, I understand the point of this exercise. Yes, from now on, I will not react rashly to random threats. Now do you mind getting off me?"   
  
She looked down at him, surprised by his sudden acquiescence, and he could feel her doubt. "I promise this isn't a trick to catch you off guard," he added reassuringly. "Now please. Get off me."   
  
Convinced, she nodded and stood up. He breathed out deeply, still spread-eagled on the floor, hoping that his face wasn't as red as it felt. When she offered her hand to help him up, he stared at it for a few moments, trying to decide whether he should accept it or pull her down to reclaim all the dignity he had just lost. In the end, he remained true to his word; there was no sense in fighting a losing battle. He didn't miss the spark of happiness that flashed in her eyes when he accepted her help, and he wondered how he was supposed to feel about her now.   
  
He practically *owned* her, and he knew he was supposed to hate her. He wanted desperately to get it over with and just strangle her, but at the same time, he owed her his life.   
  
His family's future was still in her hands.   
  
He felt sorry for her.   
  
He was attracted to her.   
  
He couldn't completely forgive her, yet he completely understood her.   
  
Syusuke sighed. If anything was clear, it was that he couldn't make up his mind. She was driving him crazy, tearing him in opposite directions, and he didn't like where this strange relationship was heading.   
  
"Do you want to keep practicing?," Kirika asked, startling him out of his thoughts.   
  
"I've had enough," Syusuke answered quickly, running a hand through his hair. "Look, I know I acted irrationally this afternoon, and I know you're right to want me to train with you, but I can't concentrate. I can't win this game, and you *know* I can't win, so just tell me what you know. Please. I would really appreciate it."   
  
She stared at him with an expression that revealed no emotions, and he was almost afraid that she had not heard a single word of his plea, or that she was trying to decide how much information to keep for blackmail. Finally, to his great surprise, her face broke into the widest smile he had ever seen.   
  
"Thank you," she said, her eyes shining with so much gratitude that Syusuke almost didn't believe her. "You have no idea how your honesty means to me."   
  
He wasn't sure what he had done to suddenly gain her trust and her gratitude, but as unusual as it was, the thought appealed to him. In spite of her many flaws, maybe Kirika wasn't that bad of a person after all.   
  
"You're welcome," he smiled, genuinely this time.   
  
And so she told him.   
  
She told him *everything*.   
  


* * *

  
  
In the world of tennis, potential greats came and went with the seasons, but no one shook the sport quite like eighteen-year-old Tezuka Kunimitsu, the most talented professional Japanese player since Echizen Nanjiroh's short, but glorious, career. Though he was both young and unranked, Tezuka was already poised to win the rest of the year's tournaments, both major and minor, especially after his spectacular, completely unexpected triumph over the number one seed in the French Open. The media labeled the young, attractively marketable youth as the hottest rising star in sports, and hundreds of pictures of Tezuka (all of them unsmiling and candid, of course) blew his popularity beyond epic proportions. Tezuka, however, was a decent young man, and certainly not one who craved the spotlight, so he preferred to keep to himself even as he balanced his studies in New York University (International Relations/Math) with his tennis fame.   
  
Fame refused to let him go without a fight, unfortunately. Everywhere he went, hordes of women (and quite a number of men) stalked him. Modeling companies (who insisted that he had already mastered the model strut) tried to recruit him. He received countless flattering and not-so-flattering phone calls and e-mails and catcalls and marriage proposals as the tennis season grew more heated, yet he remained perpetually unruffled, as was his custom. His stoic glares were enough to freeze rampaging fans in their tracks, and he could delete correspondence en masse without flinching.   
  
Tezuka had always managed to keep his life in control in spite of his fame, so he was irritated when he awoke to the unexpected sound of his cell phone ringing at five o'clock in the morning on a Monday. Trying to keep the irritation out of his facial features (the ringing had interrupted a pleasant dream involving Tezuka and a curvaceous blonde in a--what did Kikumaru call it?--Hopelessly Compromising Position), Tezuka reached for his phone sitting on the bedside drawer, blinked at the caller's name flashing on the screen, and grudgingly answered the call.   
  
"Good morning, Tezuka," Inui's soothing murmur instantly assaulted his ears, "We have some pressing news concerning Fuji's love life--"   
  
With a disgruntled sigh, Tezuka hung up and rolled back into bed, dismissing Inui's untimely disturbance. Sadly, he should have realized that one phone call wouldn't be the end; his phone rang again exactly five minutes later, just before he would have fallen asleep, as if the caller knew *exactly* when to annoy him. Now irritated, but still able to keep his heart rate steady, Tezuka grabbed the cell phone, stoically glared at the flashing name, and proceeded to turn the offending device off. With that, he buried his head under the pillow and tried to get some more sleep--he really needed to finish that dream.   
  
Alas, sleep was not to be.   
  
This time, the apartment phone rang on Tezuka's bedside table after another precisely calculated five-minute interval, and Tezuka scowled, even with his eyes closed. He knew the caller was almost definitely Inui, but as tempted as he was to just ignore the ringing, he had to be absolutely certain that this wasn't some emergency involving a relative or his tennis coach. Gritting his teeth, Tezuka crawled halfway off his bed, grabbed the receiver, put it next to his ear, heard Inui's "Good morning, Tezuka. We have some pressing news concerning Fuji's love life," and promptly hung up again. Just to be safe, Tezuka ripped the phone jack out before settling back into the mattress, now very annoyed.   
  
Sleepiness was to be Tezuka's downfall, for in his semi-conscious state, Tezuka was underestimating Inui, who had mastered the uncanny ability to become as annoying as the Radioactive Cockroach Who Refused to Die, regardless of how many times it was fed pesticide or smashed with a hammer. Exactly five minutes passed again before the phone in Tezuka's apartment living room rang, jolting Tezuka out of his half-slumber. Resisting the urge to utter several choice four-letter words in English, Tezuka finally decided to leave the call for the answering machine. He smiled in satisfaction when he heard the machine's familiar beep and his message playing, but his smile abruptly vanished when the caller didn't turn out to be Inui after all.   
  
"Kunimitsu?"   
  
His mother's voice was all it took to get Tezuka stumbling blearily out of bed and bolting out of his room, and before he was even aware of his surroundings, he was already lunging towards the phone. He heard from his mother so rarely that every conversation he'd had with her was necessarily urgent. "I know it's early in the morning," she was saying, as Tezuka sprinted across the living room, "but I need to discuss something very important with you."   
  
Diving across the couch, he seized the phone and blurted, "Mother?"   
  
He heard a suspicious click, and to his amazement and horror, the voice that replied *wasn't* his mother's. "Good morning, Tezuka," Inui greeted once more. "We have some pressing news concerning Fuji's love life."   
  
Tezuka stared at the phone in shock. That couldn't be right. What was going on?   
  
He would have been doomed to eternal confusion if he hadn't heard another suspicious click, and then Inui's voice speaking again.   
  
"Good morning, Tezuka. We have some pressing news concerning Fuji's love life."   
  
Tezuka's eyes widened in realization.   
  
A *recording*.   
  
It was a *recording*.   
  
Click.   
  
"Good morning, Tezuka. We have some pressing news concerning Fuji's love life."   
  
That explained why Inui's words and intonations were all exactly the same, and that explained how Tezuka's *mother* had been on the line when she knew that time in Tokyo would translate into an ungodly hour in New York. Inui had programmed those recordings to call Tezuka at these specified intervals, and Tezuka had fallen completely for Inui's trap. Tezuka sighed; was he really that predictable?   
  
Click.   
  
"Good morning, Tezuka. We have some—"   
  
Trying to keep his hands from shaking, Tezuka slammed the receiver back into its cradle and sat down in his living room couch, his arms folded across his chest. He glanced at his watch, then stared at his phone in the silence and darkness of his apartment. Precisely five minutes later, his phone rang again, and after a few rings, the answering machine beeped again.   
  
His mother's voice spoke clearly once again. "Kunimitsu? I know it's early in the morning, but I need to discuss something very important with you."   
  
A few beats.   
  
A click.   
  
Then, "Good morning, Tezuka. We have some pressing news concerning Fuji's love life."   
  
With a grimly satisfied huff, Tezuka calmly, collectedly unplugged his phone...   
  
...and flung it against the far wall.   
  


* * *

  
  
Oishi arrived at Inui's house at seven-thirty in the evening, a half hour earlier than the scheduled conference time. Inui's mother ushered Oishi in and directed him upstairs, to Inui's room, where Oishi found the infamous data tennis player cackling at something on his computer screen.   
  
"What's going on?" Oishi asked nervously, as the maniacal gleam of Inui's glasses usually spelled doom for all.   
  
"My plan's success rate is at 100%!" Inui grinned nefariously, and Oishi could have sworn the man's teeth actually *sparkled*. "In exactly twenty-seven minutes and thirty-seven seconds, Tezuka will crumble. I won't have to call him. You won't have to call him. Echizen won't have to call him. *Tezuka* will call *us*."   
  
Oishi bravely fought the urge to flee. "What did you do to, er, convince him?"   
  
Inui's glasses glinted ominously some more, but as he opened his mouth to speak, Oishi quickly had second thoughts and held up his hand. "Wait! Don't say it. I don't WANT to know. If you infuriated Tezuka in some way, I want to be completely blameless."   
  
Inui's grin widened. "Aren't you the responsible captain?"   
  
Oishi chuckled weakly. "There's only so much responsibility I'm willing to take."   
  


* * *

  
  
Tezuka gave up trying to go back to sleep and instead took a shower and changed. Once he was satisfied with his appearance, he fixed himself a nice cup of tea and a slice of toast for breakfast. He set his meal to one side of his desk and sat down in front of his laptop, intending to check the day's schedule, when he spotted a curious blinking message at the corner of his screen.   
  
And even though he was the notoriously unflappable Tezuka, when he clicked on the blinking message, a cold feeling shot through his stomach, and he very nearly spewed out his drink.   
  
"You have 498 new messages," the computer chirped happily.   
  
"You have 499 new messages," it said five seconds later.   
  
"You have 500 new messages," it announced after another five seconds. But it didn't stop there.   
  
501.   
  
"Re: Fuji's love life."   
  
502.   
  
"Re: Fuji's love life."   
  
503.   
  
"Re: Fuji's love life."   
  
504.   
  
"Re: Fuji's love life."   
  
505.   
  
"Buy a Spycam for only seven easy payments of $199.99!"   
  
506.   
  
"Re: Fuji's love life."   
  
507.   
  
"Re: Fuji's love life."   
  
508.   
  
"Wil u mary me, Kuni-b8by?"   
  
509.   
  
"Re: Fuji's love life."   
  
510.   
  
"Warning: You have reached your account limit. Messages will be deleted accordingly. Have a nice day!"   
  
Tezuka watched in carefully regulated horror as the new message count climbed stratospherically higher. He tried frantically to block all incoming messages, all to no avail. His access was denied.   
  
But that was the last straw; Inui Sadaharu was a dead man.   
  
  
  
-= End Chapter Five =-   
  
  
  
Chapter Started: September 3, 2003   
Chapter Finished: December 14, 2003 (o_O Egads, that's a long time.)   
  
Tentatively in the Next Chapter:   
- Echizen reflects. (Note: I already finished writing this, but I pushed it back a chapter, since there's more than enough information and introspection in this one.)   
- Tezuka reacts.   
- Mireille resurfaces.   
- Syusuke and Kirika "officially" go out.   
- Yuuta wonders.   
  
End Notes:   
On Tezuka - So I made him suffer. ^_^ I don't think anyone saw that coming.   
  
On Fuji - Words cannot begin to describe how wickedly fun it was having Kirika mop the floor with Fuji during training. Of course, none of this is fair to him because I keep giving him serious disadvantages (i.e. nothing against a sniper rifle; a knife against three guns; a gun against a car bomb; hand-to-hand against KIRIKA, for goodness sakes). I promise I'll make up all these beatings to our beloved leading man later.   
  
Sword-fighting, Higuma-Otoshi-slicing Badass!Fuji, anyone?   
  
Technical Note: Kirika and Fuji used real grappling techniques in their fight. Although those particular moves are very basic, that segment was, hands down, the most unbelievably difficult part to write in this entire story. Ironically, I had been looking forward to writing that sequence since before the first chapter was even published, but I'm not sure I like the way it turned out... -_- Gah.   
  
Still, I hope you got the gist of that scene, which was essentially Syusuke getting his ego shredded and handed back to him on a platter, courtesy of Kirika. ^_^   
  
Final Note: Points to anyone who caught the TeniMyu!Tezuka reference. ^_~ Thanks for reading! And Merry Christmas!   
  
  
  
Please review and/or send comments to me at rune_dreaming@yahoo.com! Your feedback is very much appreciated!   
  
Copyright (C) 2003 by Dark Rune. All rights reserved. 


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